


Another Life

by boldly-ho (reaverattack)



Category: What We Do in the Shadows (2014)
Genre: Abuse Mentions, Angst, Consensual Non-Consent, Depression, F/M, Hypnosis, Memory Loss, Profanity, Sex, Slow Burn, canon adjacent, dubcon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-18
Updated: 2020-10-28
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:47:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 24
Words: 52,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23194210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reaverattack/pseuds/boldly-ho
Summary: You awake to find you have no memories of the past year- almost like they were wiped from your mind. You want to move on and try to pick up your life, but the glimpses of familiar faces and scenes around Wellington taunt you, and you can’t just let it be.
Relationships: Vladislav (What We Do in the Shadows)/Reader
Comments: 174
Kudos: 132





	1. Chapter 1

You opened your eyes to sunlight streaming in through your bedroom window. You sat bolt upright. You’d overslept and were late for work. Grabbing your phone off the nightstand, you stopped when you realized your phone background wasn’t a picture of that gorgeous actor from your favorite movie, but was instead a photo of a crescent moon. You didn’t remember changing it. As you puzzled over your lockscreen, you realized that the date was wrong. It said April. But it was May, not April. And the year was wrong. It’s May of the previous year. 

Your phone is telling you almost a year has passed.

“Dawn!” you threw yourself out of bed and ran into the living area. “Dawn!”

Your flatmate, Dawn, sat on the couch, watching Netflix on the large TV. “Nice of you to finally join the living,” she joked. Glancing up and seeing the look on your face, she muted the TV. “Y/N, what’s wrong?”

“What day is it?” 

“Tuesday. Why? What happened?”

You ignored her questions. “No. What’s the date?”

Dawn paused. “It’s April 10.”

“What year?”

“Y/N, you’re scaring me. Come here; sit down.” She moved aside and gestured to the couch cushion beside her.

“What year!” You knew you shouldn’t be yelling. You knew you were panicking. But being aware of your panic didn’t mean you could stop it.

Dawn told you what year it was.

You collapsed on, rather than sat on, the couch beside her. Your heart was racing and you felt lightheaded. “I lost a year,” you exhaled.

“What? What do you mean?”

“I lost a year.” You looked over at Dawn. “I don’t remember the last year.”

~

You looked around the strangely dressed man, Viago, he’d introduced himself as, and into the house. It was a bit of a shithole. But you steeled yourself as you stepped over the threshold and into the lounge. You’d been prepared for this. Anything that was both in your price range and available at the last minute was going to be subpar at best. 

The place looked fairly tidy, though you suspected that might not be the norm. Your potential new flatmate was odd. He spoke with an accent you’d never heard before, maybe some sort of eastern European? And he wore clothes you didn’t think you’d seen outside of a period drama. He was jittery, seemingly on edge, but he was friendly enough.

“Vladislav and Deacon are out for the night. Petyr is here, but he’s a bit of a hermit, so I don’t think you’ll see him around too often, anyway. But all three gave me permission to make a final decision on the new flatmate. We could schedule another interview with Vladislav and Deacon if you’d be more comfortable with that, though.”

You’d been hoping the other three weren’t as odd as Viago. But a flatmate so antisocial you might not see him? That’s the furthest extreme of eccentric. And someone named Vladislav? You chided yourself for being xenophobic. It was probably a common enough name in parts of Europe. Still, you found yourself really hoping this Deacon character at least was normal.

As Viago led you through the house, the chore wheel on the kitchen wall gave you some comfort. Maybe the place was well kept, after all. Though, the spelling of Petyr with a “Y” gave you pause.

“And this would be your room,” Viago said, as he opened a door to a bedroom, isolated down it’s own hallway. The room was surprisingly big, with huge windows on the far wall. It had its own attached bathroom, which was actually a big step up from sharing one with Dawn. This might work out after all.

“It’s nice,” you offered, upon realizing Viago was waiting for a reaction.

He smiled. “Great! I do have a few questions for you.”

“Of course.” 

You migrated back downstairs to the kitchen table, where Viago pulled out a notebook, writing your name at the top of a blank page in the most gorgeous script you’d ever seen. You felt self conscious, despite the fact that you hadn’t written anything anywhere where Viago could see it and compare.

“Ok,” he began. “Will you be able to pay your share of the bills? Rent and utilities?”

You nodded. “That shouldn’t be an issue. I only work part time, but the hours are regular.” True enough, though you were transitioning to working remotely. No need to let him know you might be a constant presence in the way just yet.

He jotted something down. “Reason for leaving your current living situation?”

You tried not to let your irritation show on your face. “My roommate’s boyfriend is moving in, so she asked if I could find somewhere else to live.” And at the very last minute, you thought bitterly.

Viago made a face and muttered under his breath as he wrote in his notebook, “…a little rude.” He was right. It drew a faint smile from you.

“We are all awake at night,” he paused, “for, uh, work. So, we sleep during the day. We’re willing to keep the noise to a minimum after midnight for your sake. Would you be able to mind the noise level during daylight hours?”

You thought about it. Inconvenient, but not unmanageable. Especially on the days you still went into work. “I think so, yeah.”

He nodded. “And finally, would you be willing to clean up after yourself and help with communal chores?”

“Definitely. I like a tidy home.”

“Great!” He scrawled again in his book before flipping it shut with a flourish. “Do you have any questions for me?”

“Just a few. Why the vacancy?”

“Well, we never had a fifth flatmate. But the bills keep increasing and there’s a spare room, so we decided it might be time to bring in a st-, uh, another steady income.” 

You nodded. Makes sense. The utilities costs in Wellington had been climbing through the roof. You and Dawn had been struggling a bit. Sure, this place was bigger, but utilities split five ways was guaranteed to be cheaper nonetheless.

“Four guys all flatting together. Are you sure you’re all comfortable with me moving in? I don’t want it to be an issue.” You personally didn’t see much of a problem in living with men, but you wanted to make sure that feeling was returned.

“We discussed it. There may be a bit of an adjustment, living with a… woman, after all these years. But, we’re willing to make any necessary adjustments.” Viago offered you a large, sudden smile, alarming you both with the gesture and with his pronounced canines. “Any other questions?”

“Uh, no, I think that just about covers it.”

“Wonderful! Then I would like to offer you the room! Unless, of course, you wanted to interview with Vladislav and Deacon first?”

You shook your head. In an ideal situation, obviously you’d want to meet the people you’d be living with. Unfortunately, time was of the essence in getting out of your current place, so you were willing to forgo the interviews to expedite the process.

“Ok, well I have a key already made up for you. You can move in as soon as you like, but remember to be quiet if you move in during the day.” 

You took the key and shook his smooth, cool hand. “I can move in tomorrow afternoon.”

~

“I moved out?” you asked. “And Zach moved in?”

Dawn nodded, though her lips were pursed. “Yeah. He did. Didn’t last very long. He was a useless excuse for a boyfriend.”

You gave her a questioning look. 

“He was cheating on me. God, it’s weird telling you this again. But, yeah. We broke up. I ran into you about six months ago. We caught up, but never got as close again as we used to be before I kicked you out.” She reached for your hand, and you let her grab it. “I apologized already, and we made up, but since you can’t remember; I’m sorry for how I handled that situation, and for letting us drift apart like that.”

You weren’t mad at Dawn. You felt like you should be. The offense seemed fresh in your mind, recent. But it didn’t feel fresh. You didn’t feel hurt anymore. “I forgive you,” you told her honestly. “Again. And I’m sorry for whatever role I played in letting us drift apart.”

She brushed off your apology. “I already forgave you.”

“Ok. But if we never got close again, how did I end up living here again? How long have I been living here? What happened this past year?”

“Since you and I made up six months ago, we’ve only seen each other three times. The last time was almost two weeks ago. We had lunch. You seemed fine, though. No memory issues. But yesterday morning, really early, you texted and asked if the spare room was still available. It was, clearly, and you were here in bed when I got back home last night.”

You were more curious than confused. There was so little information that your brain couldn’t even throw around unfounded theories or become frustrated by unsolved puzzles. There was nothing to clarify even the biggest, most important, or obvious pieces yet. 

“Why though? What happened?”

“All the text said was ‘I need to move out ASAP. It isn’t working out here anymore. Can I move back in?’”

“Dawn, I don’t-“

“I really, really don’t know what you’ve been up to this past year. You’ve been closed off the few times we hung out. Secretive, almost.”

“Me? Secretive?” you asked incredulously. You had never been overly private, especially not with friends.

“I don’t know. Maybe not secretive, I guess, but definitely less open than usual. I figured it was because we ended up drifting apart. You just weren’t as comfortable with me anymore.” The thought made you sad. “Whatever it was,” Dawn continued, “I really only know the most basic information on the past year.”

You didn’t say anything, waiting for her to fill the silence with whatever it was she knew. She obliged.

“You were flatting with a few guys, four or five, I think, from Europe. You were seeing one of them though.”

“What!”

Dawn nodded. “You were head over heels. Even I could tell, but again, you weren’t giving me too much info to work with in our limited interactions, so that’s really all I got.”

“Right. Sorry.”

She ignored your interrupting apology. “I figured that’s why you had to leave in such a hurry. ‘It isn’t working out.’ I figured you guys must’ve broken up.”

“Were we together long?”

“I think so. When we reconnected that first time, you already seemed pretty serious, and that was six months ago.”

A boyfriend. An ex-boyfriend, technically. An ex-boyfriend you didn’t even remember. How could that have happened? How could any of this have happened? How could you just go to sleep one night, and wake up the next day without remembering the past year?

“Did you ever meet him? Or any of the flatmates? Anyone at all I interacted with?”

You had forgotten Dawn still held your hand until she gave it a gentle, encouraging squeeze. “I never met anyone. You didn’t talk about the others too much, just Vlad. That’s his name, by the way. Vlad.”

Vlad. Okay, then.


	2. Chapter 2

You kicked the door shut behind you, grimacing as it slammed audibly. Whoops. Hopefully you hadn’t woken any of the guys. Too late to stress about it, now. You carried your last box up to your room, simultaneously relieved that they were finally all in there and disappointed that you now had to unpack them. It wasn’t as if you had an excess of possessions. In fact, you didn’t have that much; you couldn’t. Most of the places you’d lived weren’t blessed with an abundance of space. Still, though, you imagined it would take you a few hours to unpack. You debated for a moment only taking out the essentials, before stamping that disastrous idea down. If you didn’t unpack everything tonight, you wouldn’t do it for months.

Unpacking, of course, was a nightmare. It seemed even more tedious given that most of your boxes had only been packed this morning. The largest obstacle was probably the closet space, or lack thereof, more accurately. There was no closet at all, something you failed to notice on your tour of the house. Instead, there was a wardrobe against the wall. It was like the world’s most infuriating game of Tetris, ending with a pile of clothes and shoes guaranteed to fall on you when you next opened that door.

“Knock knock!” The words were accompanied by an actual knock on your door frame. Viago poked his head in. 

You pulled open the door for him. “Hi, Viago. I didn’t wake you did I?”

“Not at all. I get up at six.”

“Is it already six?” You looked behind you at the window, only now realizing the sun had set. “I spent that whole time organizing the wardrobe. That’s disheartening.”

“Do you need some help?” he offered.

“That’s sweet, but no. I’m just complaining.”

“If you’re sure. Petyr is probably going to sleep in tonight, but Vladislav, Deacon, and I are going into town. Do you need anything?”

“No, thank you. I’m just going to power through the rest of these boxes and head to bed.”

“Alright then. We might not see you until tomorrow evening. We usually get home pretty late. We’ll keep the noise down.”

“Thanks.”

Viago left, and you heard the three talking downstairs as they made their way out the door. 

You wondered if this was going to be the norm here. A handful of roommates you never saw. There were certainly worse living situations. You and Dawn had become close, but that was merely coincidence. You had never been the type of person who had to be best friends with her flatmates. Being the only diurnal person in the house had its perks. You’d only share five or six waking hours with your flatmates. It would be almost like having the house to yourself. You enjoyed your privacy. This might actually be nice.

~

All pictures saved to your phone in the last year were pretty generic. A few mirror selfies. Mostly at clubs. A few celebrity photos saved from the internet. Quite a few inanimate objects. Delicious looking meals. Trees and flowers at the park. The photo of the moon you had on your lockscreen. But there were no pictures of anyone else. There were no pictures of you with anyone else. And there were no pictures taken in the place you had been living. You had thousands of photos in your camera roll. But for some reason, you had only saved 46 pictures over the last year.

Furthermore, there were no new contacts in your phone. You’d gone through each number one by one. You had known all of these people a year ago.

You’d scoured social media. You hadn’t posted much this past year, and what you had posted did nothing to inform you of what you’d actually been up to. A thorough search online revealed that you had no friends named Vlad or Vladimir or anything similar. None of your friends had friends with that name. 

What the hell?

~

God, you were an idiot. 

You had severely underestimated how long it would take to finish unpacking. It was now almost two in the morning. You were parched. The last time you had anything to drink was before you left Dawn’s. You dragged yourself down the stairs and into the kitchen, rummaging through three cabinets before finding the glasses. The glass was filled three times from the tap before your thirst was sated. No longer feeling quite so dehydrated, you were able to focus on your ravenous stomach. Maybe you could steal a bit of food from your flatmates ? Just one time.

The refrigerator had quite a few decades on you. The moment you opened it, however, the outside of it seemed comparatively flawless. Not only was there no food, although, really, how could four grown men not have any food between them? But, the smell that came from the empty fridge was sickening. Almost like rotten meat. Though, it wasn’t entirely empty, you noticed. There was a single decanter of what looked liked red wine on the top shelf. You sighed and closed the door, making a mental note to buy a box of baking soda for the fridge when you went grocery shopping.

You rummaged through the cabinets, still intent on thievery, but found nothing aside from assorted china. You sighed in exasperation. Men. Of course they only ate takeout. 

Well, when in Rome.

You took out your phone, looking up the nearest pizza joint open at this ungodly hour and ordering your go to. Estimated delivery in 45 minutes. Maybe you’d end up being as nocturnal as your flatmates after all. The burning behind your eyes and heaviness of your lids suggested otherwise.

You sat at the kitchen table, scrolling on your phone, waiting for your food to arrive…

“Did you order a pizza?”

You woke suddenly, whipping your head up, your forehead sore from where it had been resting against the table. “What?”

“There is a pizza. From on the doorstep.” The man standing in the kitchen spoke in a European accent. He had messy brown hair and was wearing clothes that seemed fairly outdated, including a black and red military jacket that had seen better days.

“Oh. Yeah, sorry. I must have fallen asleep. Good thing I tipped online, huh?” you offered jokingly. 

He didn’t react. “The pizza is cold.” He set the box on the table in front of you.

“Yeah. I must’ve been asleep for a while.” You wiped your eyes, mildly embarrassed by the makeup that transferred to your fingers. “I’m Y/N. You must be, uh…” You felt dumb for beginning the sentence that way. You had no clue which flatmate he was supposed to be.

“I am Deacon.” Again, no smile. You were beginning to think this guy didn’t much care for you.

“Deacon. Hi. Nice to meet you.”

He nodded in response. That was something at least. 

You opened the box and took a bite of the cool pizza. “Would you like some?” you asked, mouth full.

Deacon grimaced. “Uh, no, thank you.”

Whether he wasn’t a fan of the pizza or of your poor manners, you couldn’t tell. Possibly both. You shrugged, taking another bite. “So are the other guys back, too?”

“Yes. They are in bed. It’s almost sunrise.”

Oh, crap. You’d been asleep for a while then. You decided to migrate up to bed and try to salvage a few hours of restful shut eye. You shut the pizza box, shoving the entire thing into the smelly fridge.

“Thanks for bringing in the pizza for me,” you called to Deacon as he exited the kitchen.

He didn’t acknowledge your thanks, but did tersely remind you to remain quiet during the day.

Whelp. 25% of your new flatmates didn’t care for you, 25% were friendly towards you, and 50% may or may not actually exist. Not horrible statistics, all given.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This chapter contains mentions of domestic abuse. No abuse is depicted in this chapter, but there are mentions of both physical and emotional abuse. Take care of yourselves.

A knock at the door.

You ignored it.

You sunk lower into the bathtub, letting the now lukewarm water rise to cover everything but your nose. You liked the way the world sounded from underwater. It sounded heavier. You took slow breaths, careful not to get any water up your nose, wanting to prolong your submersion.

Nothing wrong with you. That’s what all the doctors had said. 

Dawn had taken you to the emergency room on that first morning last week. You’d explained your situation and were subjected to a number of examinations, tests, and scans. All had come back fine. Your brain was healthy. There were no indications of physical trauma. You didn’t have problems remembering anything before that year, or since you’d woken up on that morning. There was no medical reason for your amnesia. You were fine.

So, you were referred to a psychologist. You met with her this morning, a pleasant-looking woman with round cheeks and short, mousy curls. She made you feel comfortable when she asked why you were there, when she expressed sympathy at how stressed and frightened you must feel. You were stressed. You were frightened. And she told you she’d help you get to the bottom of your problem. You weren’t sure it would work, but it was something. A solution to move towards. For the first time in a week, you didn’t feel so helpless.

However, you began to feel a lot less comfortable when she suggested that your relationship had ended so poorly, on such emotionally traumatizing terms, that you’d repressed the entire thing. She hadn’t outright asked if you’d been abused, but the question was in the air, being danced around. You were fairly sure that she was going to suggest it outright, but decided to wait until at least your next session after seeing your response to her attempts to broach the topic. You’d shut down, refusing to acknowledge any prompts to take the conversation in that direction.

It terrified you. You felt deep down that it wasn’t true, but you didn’t know why, and so you couldn’t really rule it out. Maybe your gut feeling that you hadn’t been abused wasn’t based in reality but in denial. Still though, you hadn’t found any marks on yourself, and all your exams from the ER had come back fine. There was no evidence that you’d been abused, at least not physically. It wasn’t entirely unfathomable that you had been emotionally or psychologically abused. There wouldn’t be any physical evidence of such treatment. And it would fit with the psychologist’s suggestion that you had repressed your memories of the events since last May. 

If you had in fact repressed your memories, you’d asked the doctor, should you try to get them back? If your relationship, or whatever it was, ended so horribly that you blocked the entire thing out, maybe you were better off not remembering? The psychologist told you that was something you’d have to decide for yourself. Either trying to remember or not was fine, so long as you were sure, and willing to accept the outcome of your decision.

So, you were underwater.

Another knock. “Y/N?” 

You poked your head up, wiping water from your eyes and ignoring the unpleasant sensation of water sliding down your ear canal.

Dawn’s head peered from around the bathroom door. “You’ve been in there for a while. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.”

“You don’t seem fine.”

“Well, I am.” Too terse. You softened your tone. “Really, Dawn, I’m okay. I just need some time to relax.”

“You’ve been in there for hours. Get out. Get ready. We’re going out tonight.”

You sunk lower into the tub, the water making a satisfying sloshing noise against the bathtub. “I don’t really feel like it.”

She ignored your protests. “We’re leaving in an hour.” And with that, she shut the door and left, preventing any further protestation on your part.

You pulled the plug from the tub, letting all the water drain before you finally stood up and toweled off. You stood in front of the mirror, looking at your face, inspecting it like you might a stranger’s. You were looking for any difference, any changes that would show you the passage of time. There were none. You hadn’t aged enough, nor experienced enough weight change, nor changed in any way significant enough to render your reflection unrecognizable. You should probably find that comforting, but instead it upset you. It was as if it invalidated the time passed. 

Turning away from your all too familiar face, you wrapped the towel around your body and walked across the hall to your bedroom, rummaging through your closet until you found what your were looking for- your favorite little black dress. Laying it out on the bed, you noticed that it had changed. It was slightly washed out. The fade was relatively insignificant, something you likely wouldn’t have noticed if you had your memories. But your last memory of the dress was almost a year old, and you’d clearly worn it often over the past year. You smiled. You might not bear any signs of the passage of time, but at least something did. 

You pulled on the dress, then rushed through your hair and makeup. If Dawn said she was giving you an hour, then you had that hour and not a second more. Sure enough, Dawn knocked at your door. “Ten minutes!”

“I’ll be ready!” you called back, blotting your lipstick onto a tissue.

You gave yourself a final once-over in the mirror, and realized you weren’t wearing earrings. You grabbed your jewelry box, but stopped dead in your tracks upon opening it. 

There was an unfamiliar plain white business envelope sitting on top of the jewelry within, with three words written on it in a messy scrawl you didn’t recognize. ‘Wear every day.’ You picked up the envelope and stared at the writing. It definitely wasn’t your script. Maybe it was Vlad’s. The thought excited you, though you couldn’t quite tell if that feeling was positive or negative.

The envelope was unsealed, so you reached within and pulled out its contents. It was a necklace. The chain was long, so long that the pendant could be tucked into even a fairly low cut top. The pendant itself was small, but obviously recognizable, a simplistic silver cross. You didn’t own any other cross jewelry. It really wasn’t your taste. 

‘Wear every day.’ You wondered why on earth you would even own the necklace in the first place, let alone wear it daily. The message wasn’t even your own. Is this something you used to wear daily? Its ties to your forgotten life of the past year were more appealing than the necklace itself, so you pulled it over your head, tucking the cross into your dress where it couldn’t be seen.

You walked out to find Dawn on the sofa, scrolling on her phone.

“How do I look?” you asked her.

“Perfect. Ready to have fun?”

You nodded, not really committed. If Dawn noticed, she didn’t say anything.

Some of Dawn’s colleagues, including a cute new coworker she blushingly insisted she wasn’t into, had met up at Boogie Wonderland, so the two of you were headed that way to join them. You walked quickly through downtown Wellington, chilled by the cool autumn air. You wished you’d brought a jacket, but knew you’d regret having to tote it around when you got to the club. Dawn was telling you all about this new coworker she supposedly wasn’t interested in, but you were only partially paying attention, too focused on how cold you were becoming. You picked up your pace, glancing behind you make sure Dawn was keeping up, when you spotted it across the street.

The Big Kumara. A small, uncrowded dive bar you’d never paid much attention to in the past. But something about it grabbed your attention now. It was like déjà vu, almost, though different somehow. You didn’t feel like you had experienced this moment before, more that you almost remembered something. It wasn’t that you recognized the place mentally, more like you recognized it emotionally. It made you feel something, though you weren’t sure what. You didn’t know the place; you felt like you should. It was a bit like when you knew a word, and it was on the tip of your tongue, but you just couldn’t get it. It was like that, but with recognition. 

“Y/N? Are you okay?” Dawn stood beside you, looking from you to The Big Kumara and back.

You didn’t look at her, still staring at the bar, frustrated by your inability to recall whatever it was you were almost getting. “I think I know that place.”

“What? The townie bar?” She sounded confused. “Oh! You mean from last year?”

“I don’t know. Maybe.” The almost déjà vu feeling was fading quickly, like a dream after waking up. “Maybe it’s nothing.”

“Do you want to go in?”

Did you want to go in? You weren’t sure. You didn’t even know what you would do if you went in. Just look around? See if anything sparked a memory? You could ask around, you supposed, see if anyone recognized you. But that would probably be a bit weird.

Did you even want to chase this feeling? Your psychologist had said trying to get your memories back was fine, so long as you were sure. But were you sure? As the saying goes, ignorance is bliss. Maybe leaving the past year alone was in your best interest. You had a sneaking suspicion that you’d regret either option. If you left it alone, and chose not to pursue your memories, you’d always be wondering. You don’t think you could ever fully come to terms with not knowing. But if you walked into that bar, and tried to uncover the truth, you’d most likely find something bad. Bad enough that your brain erased it in the first place, as some sort of method of self-preservation. There were no good options.

Typical.

But now you had an idea of where to start, should you chose to do so. Walking into The Big Kumara now or never walking into The Big Kumara weren’t your only two choices.

“No,” you finally answered. “Let’s just go to Boogie Wonderland.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I’m sure.” It felt nice to answer honestly. And it felt nice to be sure.

Boogie Wonderland was just as loud and as crowded as you remembered from your last visit with Dawn. She spotted her friends immediately, but it took you a good few minutes to fight your way through the throng of close-pressed bodies to get to them. 

“Dawn!” They greeted her as if she were Norm from Cheers. She was certainly more outgoing than you, and had quite a few more friends and acquaintances. 

Dawn introduced you to all of her coworkers, giving you a pointed look when she introduced the one she didn’t, but of course definitively did, have a crush on. The group didn’t make much of an effort to include you in the conversation, but that was fine by you. You listened from the periphery, absorbing what you could with the music blaring, focused mostly on trying to decipher whether or not Dawn’s new coworker had any interest in her. The good news: he was absolutely flirting with her. The bad news: he was flirting with two other coworkers, the bartender, and a woman sitting at the bar, as well. Dawn had always had terrible taste in men. The thought occurred to you that you might not be able to judge. The guy you’d apparently been involved with could have been just as sleazy. Or worse. Your hand absent-mindedly traced the silver chain around your neck, as you once again became frustrated by your lack of memory.

You were pulled out of your thoughts by one of Dawn’s friends talking to you.

You focused on him. “Sorry, what?”

He raised his voice, assuming you couldn’t hear him over the music. “What is it that you do? For work?”

You were startled to realize you weren’t sure. The last few days had been so crazed that you hadn’t even thought about work. You didn’t have any angry calls about missed shifts. Were you unemployed? Last May, you had been transitioning to working remotely. Maybe you still did that? 

He continued to look at you expectantly. “I, uh…”

Thankfully, Dawn came to your rescue, confirming that you did in fact work remotely at the same job. You probably should try to get some hours in, soon.

The same man, whose name you couldn’t remember, turned to you again. “That’s cool. How long have you known Dawn?”

“Three years.”

He nodded. “Nice. I’m going to head up to the bar. Would you like me to get you anything?”

You realized he was asking to buy you a drink. You panicked. “Uh, no, thanks. I’m probably just going to close out, myself, anyway.”

His face fell. “Oh, yeah, sure, okay.” He got up quickly and went to the bar. 

You were uncomfortable with everyone’s eyes on you. “I’m probably just going to head home,” you addressed Dawn, before getting up and making your way to the bar to close out.

It wasn’t that Dawn’s friend was unattractive. He wasn’t drop dead gorgeous, but he was definitely handsome, with puppy dog eyes and attractively mussed hair. A year ago, you would have accepted a drink from him, no questions asked. But you felt different. You felt almost guilty for being flirted with, as if you were cheating. You felt a sudden pang of loneliness, similar to grief. It felt like the first time you had the urge to phone a grandparent before remembering they had died, like falling with nothing to catch you. It felt surreal. 

It was as you signed the receipt and put your credit card back into your clutch that you noticed him across the dance floor, talking to some woman. You had the same feeling you’d had at seeing The Big Kumara, but so much stronger. You almost recognized him. You didn’t know him from Adam, but you missed him, like he was a dear friend you’d given up for dead. He was pale, with messy brown hair, and wore an outdated black and red military style jacket that had clearly seen better days. 

The man saw you staring, and seemed startled for a moment before his face lost all expression and he looked past you to the bar. Had he recognized you? It happened so fast, you couldn’t be sure.

He left the woman he was talking to, and walked towards the exit. Without thinking, you followed. You pushed past warm, dancing bodies, picking up speed when he went out the door and you lost sight of him. As you finally made your way through the crowd and out into the cold, you saw him halfway down the block and called out to him, “Wait!”

He turned to your voice, and you started to go towards him, but he turned and ran. Shit. You sprinted after him, calling now and then.

“Please, wait!” 

He ran a few blocks before ducking to the right. When you rounded the corner, you stopped in your tracks. What the hell? You were standing in a dead end alley. The man was nowhere to be seen. There was no one in the alley, save for you and a stray dog who sat beside a dumpster. Your heart was racing, and not just from the running. 

That was that, then. He was gone. You felt a lump form in your throat. You were so confused, stressed, and overwhelmed. Leaning against the alley wall, you let out a soft sob as your tears started to flow. The dog trotted over to you, and you scratched his head with one hand as the other clutched at the chain of your necklace. He looked up at you with big, intelligent eyes as you let yourself lose composure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know. Now we’ve seen both Viago and Deacon twice, without seeing Vladislav. Sorry, all. I promise we’ll finally get to meet him in chapter 4.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about last week, guys. I didn’t have this finished in time because I’m from Wisconsin and my state government decided to clown on me last Tuesday. But here it is! Fully intact and only one week late.

You were just finishing up putting your groceries away when you realized someone was standing in the doorway. You startled abruptly. Was everyone in this house freakishly stealthy? To be fair, though, you were asleep when Deacon startled you last night.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.” He also spoke with an accent, thicker than Deacon’s.

You rose from your crouched position in front of the fridge, and turned to greet him. “Hi, I’m- oh!” you exclaimed upon actually seeing him. He wore nothing but a silky, blood red robe. There was dark hair smattered across his chest where the robe hung open. The matching dark hair on his head was disheveled, either from sleep or something a bit more active. He had a dark mustache and goatee. If you had to pick one word to describe the man, it might be ‘hairy.’

You pulled yourself together after your surprise. “Hi, I’m Y/N.”

He nodded at you. “Vladislav.” 

“I didn’t wake you did I?” You were beginning to think this may end up being your new catch phrase.

“No,” he answered from his spot in the doorway. “It’s dark out, so I was up.”

Okay… “Right. Well, sorry, I only bought groceries for one. I didn’t know what you guys ate, and I didn’t want to wake anyone up to ask.”

Vladislav looked to be fighting back a smile. “We usually don’t keep food in the house.” 

You shrugged, having guessed as much. “Well, I’m about to make myself dinner, if you’d like a bit.”

“I think I’m going out for with the other flatmates for a bite. We have plans with a friend of Deacon’s. Have you met the other flatmates, yet?”

You nodded. “Everyone except Petyr.”

Vladislav sat down at the kitchen table, legs spread just open enough that you had to make a conscious decision not to find out if he was wearing anything beneath the robe. “That’s probably for the best. Petyr is… eccentric.”

“Maybe so,” you answered, searching through the cabinets until you found a saucepan. “Still, it’s odd knowing I share a flat with someone I’ve never met.”

“Y/N?”

You turned to look at him. “Yeah?”

His hazel eyes bored into yours. It was intimate, almost uncomfortably so. You felt exposed. It thrilled you.

When he spoke again, his voice was smoother, deeper. It had a low melody to it, not quite musical, but distinct from normal speech. He spoke at full volume, but it held the cadence and closeness of a whisper.

Suddenly, your relationship to him changed. He wasn’t the flatmate you’d met only minutes before. He was so much more. He was someone you knew, someone you could trust. It was as if he knew your soul, and you felt safe and secure in that knowledge. The world narrowed until there was nothing but him. 

“You don’t mind not meeting Petyr. You are comfortable with this living situation. There’s no need for you to think any more about it.”

As soon as the moment began, it was over. It was fading quickly. What had even happened? Something with Vladislav…? You brushed it off, pouring soup mix into the saucepan. 

What had you been talking about before you got distracted? 

Oh, right, Petyr! How you hadn’t met him yet. Hardly a riveting topic of discussion.

You realized Vladislav was staring intently at you. Oh, shit, had he asked you a question?

“Sorry,” you offered. “I zoned out for a second. You were telling me about your dinner plans. Are you all good friends? Do you guys hang out a lot?”

Vladislav seemed to relax. “Yes, we’re close. We’ve know each other for years. They’re all good guys.”

You nodded. “They seem nice. Deacon doesn’t seem to like me very much, though.”

You recalled your meeting last night. He was terse and distant, a stark contrast to your current first meeting with Vladislav, who acted familiar enough with you to spend a conversation more or less half naked.

“Don’t take it personally. Deacon was pretty reluctant to let a human live here, but he’s coming around.”

You shot him a look, and he didn’t seem to notice he’d said anything odd. “As opposed to you guys?”

“What?”

You laughed. “You said Deacon was reluctant to let a human live here. As opposed to whatever you all apparently are.”

He didn’t seem to share your humorous evaluation of the situation. “I said woman.”

“Oh.” You felt your cheeks heat in embarrassment. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine. I should probably go get dressed, now.”

You felt disappointed. “Right, of course.”

~

The morning after your breakdown in the alley, you laid in bed long after you woke up, long after you were sure Dawn had left for work, long after your stomach told you it was time to look for food, long after your bladder told you it was time to use the toilet. You laid in bed long after you decided you wanted to get up. You felt heavy, as if your body wouldn’t obey you. At one point, you decided to roll over onto your other side. But your body stayed put, staring at the same wall hour after hour. You almost cared.

You didn’t feel nauseous, but you wanted to vomit.

That was how Dawn found you, hours later, after her full day of work, still lying in bed, thinking about nothing, really, and feeling vaguely ill.

“Jesus Christ, Y/N! Have you been in bed all day?” Dawn sat at the foot of your bed. You could feel her worried look, though you still stared at the wall.

“Yeah.” It came out half-silent, more of a croak than a word. You tried again, with a bit more success. “Yeah.”

“Are you sick?”

You finally turned to look at her. “No. I don’t think so.”

“Are you ok?”

You gave her the same answer. 

“What’s wrong? Did something happen?”

For a brief moment, you considered brushing her off, telling her it was just a bad day. But you realized that you didn’t have anyone except Dawn. She was basically your only friend. A wave of sadness washed over you as you realized how entirely lonely you felt. If you didn’t share with Dawn, there was no one else for you turn to, except maybe for your psychologist. Though, you couldn’t imagine having no one but a paid professional to confide in was in any way healthy.

And so you told her about last night. About the Big Kumara, about the strange man, about your breakdown in the alley, everything.

“Do you think it was him?” Dawn asked. 

Had the man you chased through Wellington last night been the mysterious Vlad from your missing year? You honestly didn’t know. You’d felt something when you’d seen him, but that didn’t mean you and he had been in a romantic relationship. But, it didn’t rule out that possibility, either. 

“Maybe. I don’t know. I didn’t quite recognize him, in the traditional sense of the word, if that makes sense.” Dawn nodded to indicate she did understand, but her facial expression indicated otherwise. You continued anyway. “But, I missed him. Like, really, truly, missed him. You know?”

“Yeah.”

“Something is wrong, Dawn. Really, really wrong. Last night, with the bar, and that man, I realized. There’s something missing.”

“Missing?”

“Yes, missing. Something is missing. I feel like my whole life is off. There’s supposed to be something, and I don’t know what it is, but there’s something that’s supposed to be in my life and it’s not here. I don’t even know what it is! But I miss it, so badly. It physically hurts. I feel it in my chest. I need it back!”

“Something? Or someone?” 

“I don’t know!” you snapped. “I feel so lonely.”

Dawn just nodded, and didn’t tell you that you weren’t alone, or that you had her, or placate you by telling you that everything would work out. You appreciated that. Instead, she asked, “The guy from the bar?”

“No! Maybe. Ugh!” You took a deep breath. “I don’t know.”

“We’ll find it. Let’s go to the Big Kumara later this week, okay?”

You nodded. “Okay.”

“Okay. Get out of bed.”

~

You suddenly awoke, unsure of what had woken you up. A bad dream maybe?

“Shit! SHIT!”

You leapt out of bed, almost running into the wall in the unfamiliar terrain of your still new room.

“Shit!” Your brain finally recognized the voice as Viago’s. 

You threw open the door and ran down the hall, taking the stairs two at a time when you reached them. You ran smack into a solid wall trying to round the corner, and landed hard on your backside.

“Shit.” This time the expletive was yours.

“Sorry! Are you alright?”

You looked up to find that, in your half-awake sate, you hadn’t run into a wall, but into Vladislav, who was thankfully fully dressed now. He reached a hand down to help you up, and you noted how cool to the touch he was. You must be over heated.

“Sorry,” you apologized in turn. “I heard Viago yelling.”

“Oh, that. I just checked on him; he’s fine.”

“Oh. Okay.” The adrenaline fading from your system, you yawned.

“I’ll make sure we keep it down until the morning. Why don’t you go back to sleep?”

“Okay. Thanks. Uh, sorry, again.”

“Don’t worry about it. Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Goodnight, Vladislav.”

Seeing as how you were awake anyway, you decided to get a glass of water from the kitchen. You filled and downed the glass quickly, exhausted by your brief and interrupted sleep. Returning to your room, you stopped in the hallway when you saw Viago, covered in blood from head to toe and holding an entire roll of paper towels. The image would be laughable if it wasn’t so macabre.

He looked like the cliched deer in the headlights. You both stared at each other dumbly for what was probably an excessive amount of time. 

Breaking the silence, you asked, “Are you okay?”

He nodded, much too rapidly and for a bit too long. “Ja.”

Neither of you moved. “Um, is that blood?”

A long pause. 

“No.”

“Okay. Uh… do you need help with anything?”

“No.”

You nodded dumbly. “And you’re sure you’re okay?”

He nodded, again with too much gusto and his face unchanged. “I’m fine.”

“Okay. Uh… Goodnight, then, I guess.”

He didn’t respond, but moved to the edge of the hallway to give you a wide berth when you passed.

Upon returning to your bedroom, you shut the door and leaned against it for a full minute. What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck?

Seriously, what the fuck?

What was that?

Viago said it wasn’t blood, and you mostly believed him, because how the hell could he have that much blood on him? But you were also reminded of the year you made fake blood for a Halloween party. You’d tried almost a dozen different online recipes and not a single one managed to look quite like blood.

That stuff drenching Viago’s clothes, hair, and face did, though.

Still, that was a lot of… whatever it was, and he couldn’t have lost that much blood and still be alive, much less conscious.

Unless it wasn’t his blood.

Nope. 

Nope, nope, nope.

You padded to your en suite bathroom and realized upon flicking on the lights that you had somehow stepped in some of the stuff.

Ew, ew, ew, ew, ew.

You wiped the smudge off the tile, and sat on the closed toilet lid, grabbing your foot to inspect it. Your heel had a decent amount of the stuff on it, now mostly dried. You cleaned it with a damp tissue, but stopped yourself before you tossed it in the bin. 

You brought it to your nose, and inhaled deeply, smelling the faint stench of iron. Blood.

What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck?


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m playing fast and loose with the layout of this house, sorry ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

Beyond useless.

A few scary stories. A flash fiction subreddit. A startling number of news stories about people who were murdered by their own flatmates.

You had googled ‘what to do if you think your flatmate is murderer.’

It was pointless, of course. If you really thought Viago was a murderer then you should go to the police.

You weren’t entirely sure why you hadn’t. You didn’t have very much doubt that Viago actually had killed someone. Mutilated, more like. The image of him covered in blood was seared into your memory. You ran through every possibility from the mundane to the outrageous and you couldn’t come up with a single plausible non-murderous reason for him to have that much blood on him. Though, just because you couldn’t come up with a reason didn’t mean there wasn’t one.

That small shred of doubt is why you hadn’t gone to the police.

That, and fear.

Assuming Viago had killed someone, you lived with a murderer. And that night, Vladislav had covered for him. You’d run into him on the stairs, and he said he’d checked on Viago and that everything was fine. It most definitely was not fine. So, assuming Viago was a murderer, Vladislav was at least an accomplice. And earlier that evening, Vladislav had told that they were going into town with Deacon. So, quite possibly, you lived with a murderer and two accomplices. Or worse, potentially.

You’d looked into it after the fact. Someone had gone missing that night. 

A young woman. Her name was Kura. She had bright eyes and a big smile. Her family wanted her back, and was willing to paid a hefty sum of money for any information that could make that happen. 

It made you sad.

Fear was only one small aspect of why you hadn’t gone to the police. In fact, the fear was starting to fade. It had been a week now since you’d stepped in some stranger’s blood, and nothing had come of it. The next night, you’d passed Viago in the hallway. He’d smiled at you, and you’d politely nodded in greeting. You’d spoken with all of them. In fact, you’d been part of a flat meeting about how Deacon still hadn’t swept (which you were sure couldn’t have warmed him to you further). It was life as usual, and was getting more normal by the day, and no one had asked you what you knew, or threatened you to keep quiet, or snuck into your bedroom with a knife.

Why would a house of murderers get an additional flatmate? Occam’s razor: the simplest solution is also the most likely. They said they needed help with the bills; they probably needed help with the bills. And it would be extremely counterintuitive to kill the person that helped pay the bills.

Still, the possibility of living with one or more killers naturally put you on edge. 

Not that you were sure anyone was a killer.

Still, though.

How else could Viago come to be covered in so much blood?

Occam’s razor.

Enough time had passed. The guys had all gone into town again. It was the first time they’d all left the house together since that night with the blood, and you had plans to snoop around. You had to know one way or another if Viago had killed someone, and you were going to dig around for the answer. You didn’t know what you were looking for, but you were sure you’d know it if and when you saw it.

You made your way down your long, isolated hallway and into the main one, stopping first at Deacon’s room. As you least suspected him of any murder or conspiracy, you were more able to summon the courage required to investigate his room. Before you could chicken out, you swung the door open and-

A closet.

It was a hall closet. Some of Deacon’s clothes where in there, yes, but it was most definitely a closet.

Not a great start, then. 

You supposed it was a good thing that you never had your heart set on becoming a detective with the Wellington PD. You didn’t even know where your own flatmate’s bedroom was. Maybe his room was downstairs with Viago’s?

Nevermind. Vladislav’s room was right down the hall from here. Hopefully, anyway.

You stopped at Vladislav’s door, hand on the doorknob. You really wished you’d known where Deacon’s room was. This felt different, riskier. You knew for certain that whatever Viago was up to, Vladislav knew about it. You took a deep breath, trying to slow your racing heart.

The longer you stood here, procrastinating, the longer it would take you to search the house, and the more likely it was that the guys would come back and catch you in the act. It was that thought that spurred you forward.

You opened the door, and for the briefest moment were surprised by the normalcy of it. You realized that you had built up some sort of extreme idea in your mind, and that anything short of dismembered bodies parts would have seemed normal. Because, although the room had most of the same things any bedroom had – a closet, a dresser, a nightstand – it was missing something very important. Vladislav’s room had no bed. Instead, where a bed should be, there was a large black coffin, wider at the top than at the feet, like one from a Halloween movie, styled like those constructed hundreds of years ago, rather than the rectangular sort that people were usually buried in today. It was lined with crushed red velvet, and it contained a pillow and blanket. 

He slept in it.

You stood in the doorway, unsure of what to do next. While subconsciously you might have been suspecting the macabre, more rationally, you expected a normal bedroom. The plan was to rummage through drawers, peek under the bed, explore the closet. How a coffin fit into that picture, you didn’t know, but it didn’t necessarily change those plans, save for looking under the bed, of course. So, you continued onward, trying to discount the uncanny apprehension that seeing the coffin had brought on.

The room was cluttered, but not overly so; more like an organized chaos. The nightstand had an antique lamp on it, a wine glass with remnants of red wine congealed at the bottom, and a skeleton key, probably for the bedroom, as it was made of the same brass as all the doorknobs in the house. The nightstand had only one drawer, so it seemed the easiest place to start. You opened the drawer, and found a stack of phone and electric bills and a small collection of sex toys. You felt your cheeks heat as you closed the drawer again.

Nothing helpful in there. You crossed the room, pulling open the closet door. You pushed his clothes to the side, all outdated from what looked like an assortment of decades or more, mostly all black, white, or red. There were no shelves in the closet, just the bar for clothes hangers. On the floor there was a small haphazard collection of shoes and boots, mixed in with what you assumed was his dirty laundry. You rummaged through it, looking for anything at all, really, but found only clothes.

You sighed in disappointment and shut the closet door behind you. The chair in the corner of the room held a pile of books, all old-looking and leather bound. You looked through them, quickly, but none were written in English. It didn’t matter, anyway. You very much doubted any of those titles translated to ‘How to Murder Unsuspecting Kiwis.’

You sat on the floor beside the chair, surveying the room once more. Just the odd bit of discarded clothing, a bow and arrows propped in one corner, and, of course, the coffin. You had no idea what to make of it, but you decided that sitting in a room you were decidedly not supposed to be in probably wasn’t the place to try to figure it out. Pulling yourself up, you gave the coffin one last look and left the room, shutting the door behind you.

Stepping out into the hallway was like stepping through a portal to another world. The odd mix of mundane and surreal in Vladislav’s room had been almost intoxicating, and you hadn’t realized how strange it felt until you were back in a realm of normalcy. The hallway was safe, secure, and most importantly, familiar. It was everyday. 

In spite of the gravity of your searching Vladislav’s room, it really hadn’t taken long, and you still had two more rooms to search. Making your way downstairs, you turned down the hall you’d never actually used since your tour of the place. It held a bathroom that you never used since you had your own, and since you didn’t want to share with that many men. Across from the bathroom was Viago’s room. Farther down the hall was another door, which you had assumed was storage but must actually be Deacon’s room, and further down, a trapdoor which led to the cellar, Petyr’s room.

You didn’t pause at Viago’s door as you had with Vladislav’s. Unless there was an actual dead body in this room, it couldn’t possibly be weirder than the last one. So, you opened the door.

You were right. It wasn’t weirder than Vladislav’s room. It was pretty much exactly just as weird as Vladislav’s room.

Viago also slept in a coffin. 

It wasn’t identical to Vladislav’s. Viago’s was sleeker, a deep mahogany rather than black, lined by a tan fabric rather than the deep red in the one upstairs, and was actually made up, so much as a coffin could be made, with the pillow neatly fluffed, and the blankets inside perfectly pulled up and folded. But, all differences aside, it was definitely a coffin.

It was somehow more jarring to find Viago’s coffin than it was to find Vladislav’s. When you’d entered Vladislav’s room, the coffin was odd, surprising, and generally something you’d never thought you’d encounter. Finding Viago’s coffin was worse. After all, what could be more disconcerting than finding out one of your flatmates slept in a coffin?

Other than the coffin, Viago’s room was picturesque. It was tidy, spotlessly clean. There were paintings on the wall above the bed. An area rug sat in the center of the room, and the bedside lamp even had a doily underneath it. The room was like a bed and breakfast for the deceased.

Muffled voices and the sound of a key in a lock snapped you out of your musings on Viago’s aesthetic. The guys were back early. You launched yourself into a sprint, slamming Viago’s door shut behind you and hoping like hell no one heard it. Doubting you could make it up to your bedroom without being caught, you instead ran to the kitchen and lit the burner beneath the kettle, pretending to be up for tea rather than for spying.

As the voices got closer, you realized it wasn’t Deacon, Viago, and Vladislav, but rather Vladislav and a woman. You heard a fair bit of giggling on her part, and his promise to meet her upstairs momentarily. Jesus, did he bring women back to sleep with him in that thing?

“Hey.”

You jumped at the greeting.

Vladislav smiled, clearly stifling a laugh. “You’re very easily startled, aren’t you?”

“Just tired. I couldn’t sleep,” you lied. “You guys back already?” 

You feigned ignorance when he said it was just him and a friend.

“I’ll just make my tea and be out of your hair in a minute.”

“Don’t worry. We’ll just be upstairs for the night. Goodnight Y/N.”

You didn’t respond as he left. You heard him run up the stairs, louder than usual, probably taking them two at a time, eager to rejoin his lady friend.

You wondered about her. Worried. You wished you’d seen her face. What if she went missing? Like Kura with the bright eyes and the big smile?

You huffed in frustration, turning off the burner before the kettle whistled. You didn’t really want tea. You wanted something stronger. You knew you didn’t have any alcohol, but opened the fridge anyway, hoping against hope the universe would be so kind as to gift you some. The universe did not oblige, but your flatmates did. Sitting on the top shelf among your assorted leftovers was the decanter of red wine they had, still with at least a glassful left in it. Making the quick decision that now was not to be the moment you started respecting your flatmates’ boundaries tonight, you pulled it from the fridge and poured yourself a glass. 

You knew something was wrong before you could pinpoint what exactly it was. As you poured, you realized the viscosity was off. This was thicker than wine, landing heavily in the glass instead of splashing, clinging to the sides instead of rolling quickly down. It was more opaque than it should be, not letting any light shine through. This wasn’t wine.

You dipped your pinky in the liquid, and brought it to your mouth. You knew you’d regret it, but put the digit on your tongue anyway. Your fears confirmed, you spit into the sink more times than was probably necessary and rinsed with water straight out of the tap.

Blood.

That’s when you realized. 

The outdated clothes, the oversized canines you’d seen on at least two of them, their nocturnal lifestyle, the way Vladislav had said Deacon didn’t want to live with a human, the blood covering Viago that night, the almost empty glass on Vladislav’s nightstand with the sticky red residue… the coffins…

Vampires.

They were vampires.

Your heart was racing.

No. No, they weren’t vampires. They couldn’t be vampires. Vampires weren’t real. 

You hadn’t actually seen anything that proved they were vampires. You hadn’t seen anything inhuman. No one had turned into a bat. No one had hypnotized you. No one had actually sucked blood directly out of a person’s neck.

You could get fake teeth. Or implanted ones. You could wear weird clothes. You could sleep all day, and in a coffin. You could drink a bit of blood from a wine glass and live to tell the tale. You were physically capable of killing someone. 

No. They weren’t vampires. But they either pretended to be, or actually believed they were. 

You weren’t sure which idea was more unsettling.


	6. Chapter 6

You passed a parked patrol car as you walked down the street and made a conscious effort not to make eye contact with the constables inside. You were almost afraid they’d be able to tie you to your flatmates’ weird cult just by looking at you. Doing your best to embody innocence and nonchalance, you continued on, only marginally picking up speed.

Your destination was a few blocks farther than you’d thought. You’d never been there. It wasn’t as if you had an excess of cash, nor an excess of desire to spend it on such things. Your destination, of course, was a Christian store. After a quick Google search, you’d found one in Lower Hutt that sold jewelry. From your research on vampires, you’d discovered they traditionally had an aversion to both silver and religious symbols, notably crosses. So, the plan was to buy a silver cross necklace. If the guys seriously believed they were vampires, which you were pretty sure they did, having such an item might help keep you safe.

You weren’t sure who was nuttier – you or your flatmates.

Nevertheless, it was better to be nutty than sorry, so you entered the unfamiliar shop. As the clerk greeted you, you felt conspicuous in the same way you had as you passed the patrol car. 

“Anything I can help you with today?”

“Yes, uh…” you felt uncomfortable both being in the shop and asking the clerk for assistance. If you weren’t so impatient you could have ordered this online and saved yourself the mortifying ideal of talking to strangers in public. “I saw online that you sold silver cross pendants. I’d like to buy one, please.”

“Of course!” The man lit up. You imagined he made a fair bit more commission on the jewelry than he did on the Bibles. “What specifically were you thinking? We have a few different styles. You mentioned silver. Are you set on that? We also sell white gold if you wanted something a bit higher quality…?”

You shook your head. “No, thank you. Silver is fine.” It had to be silver.

He nodded, waving you over to the locked display. “These here are silver-plated, while these here are actually silver,” he told you, gesturing. 

Looking at the full silver options, you turned your attention to the smaller, less detailed ones. You didn’t want big, and you didn’t need ornate. It just had to be noticeable. You focused on one just about half the length of your pinky. It was small enough to be unobtrusive, yet large enough to be seen, if you so desired. There were no decorations to it. Just a simple cross. 

“I like that one.”

“Great choice!” He told you the price, and you nodded, only half-listening. The price didn’t really matter. You were going to buy it, anyway. “We also sell chains, if you needed one.” You nodded again. “Silver as well?”

You decided on the longest chain they had. The necklace could be tucked under almost any top’s neckline to remain hidden, or pulled out if you needed it.

If you needed it.

You really were nuts, huh?

The clerk started to wrap it up, but you stopped him. “I’d rather wear it out of the store.”

You pulled the necklace over your head and tucked it under your shirt, leaving the shop as the clerk called after you, “Have a blessed day!”

~

Tonight was the night.

You pulled the strange necklace over your head once again, tucking it into your favorite black dress. You still weren’t sure why you wore it, but it was important to you. You still had the envelope with the unfamiliar handwriting. 

‘Wear every day.’

You’d thrown it out at one point, only to come back to the bin less than ten minutes later to fetch it out. It was now tucked safely away in a desk drawer. Sometimes you pulled it out to look at it, to trace the messy lettering with a finger before sighing in frustration and tucking it back way, often closing the drawer with an aggressive slam. You felt the urge to take out the envelope now, but quashed it down as Dawn called your name. 

As you headed out of the flat, she turned and asked, “Ready?”

Hell no.

You nodded anyway.

You were excited about going to the Big Kumara. You were also dreading it. 

As you walked, Dawn tried to make light conversation with you, but you couldn’t focus on anything other than your breathing.

Maybe you’d go in, get recognized, and get filled in on everything you’d forgotten. Maybe being inside the bar would spark some lost memory, and that missing year would come back to you. Maybe that happened, and you regretted ever finding out. 

But maybe nothing happened. Maybe you went in, and the feeling of familiarity faded. Maybe no one knew you. Maybe you’d never even been to the Big Kumara. Maybe this was all a big waste of time.

You and Dawn arrived at the bar somehow too quickly and yet not quickly enough.

Ever the supportive friend, Dawn grabbed your hand and gave it a squeeze before leading you across the street and into the Big Kumara. 

As you approached, the odd sense of not quite recognition resurfaced, though less strongly than it had on that other night. Perhaps because you were expecting it? 

“ID?” The bouncer was a large man, both tall and wide. He looked quite bored, which you could understand, as looking around him revealed the place was almost dead. There were only four or five people inside.

You held your ID out as he waved Dawn inside, but he didn’t even take it before putting up a hand to stop you. “Not you.”

You stopped, startled. “What?”

“You can’t go in.”

“What do you mean she can’t go in?” Dawn interjected before you could, hands on her hips, and a scowl you hoped never to see directed at you.

“We’re at capacity.”

At capacity? Bullshit. There was no one in there.

“Well, then she can go in, and I’ll stay out here.”

You held out your ID once more, but again were rejected. The bouncer’s face shifted from bored detachment to a heated glare. You took a step back.

“You aren’t welcome here.”

“Why?” you pleaded. “Was I kicked out or something? Please, I don’t remember—“

“Let’s just go, Y/N,” Dawn said, pulling you away by the arm as you stared back at the Big Kumara, blinking back hot tears of frustration.

~

Your Uber had run afoul of some road construction, so the ride home from Lower Hutt took longer than usual. It was already dark by the time you swung open the front door. Your flatmates were already up, and you found yourself wishing the Uber had taken even longer.

Deacon stopped his motions and greeted you more cheerfully than he ever had before. “Y/N!”

“Uh, hi…”

“Come, sit!” He gestured to where Viago and Vladislav sat on a blanket on the floor. Both looked back at you silently, but with faces that clearly cried out in distress. “I am doing an erotic dance!”

You paused. “Oh, uh…”

“Come and watch,” he urged again.

“Well, I would, but I actually have to… Uh, I have to move my bed.” Ugh, really? Move your bed? “Because of… a leak. Yeah, there’s a leak above my bed, so I have to move it.” Nice save, Y/N.

Deacon didn’t even miss a beat before moving to start again. “Too bad. I’ll just get back to it, then.”

“Do you need help moving your bed?” Vladislav looked at you, his expression clearly saying what his mouth couldn’t. Please, get me out of this.

You nodded. “That would be great, thanks.”

Viago quickly piped in. “I’ll help, too!”

Deacon scowled. “Then who will be here to watch? Y/N, you don’t need both of their help. The bed isn’t that heavy if you’re just trying to slide it over, and Vlad is plenty strong enough to help you, right?”

Deacon looked at you expectantly. Viago looked at you pleadingly. Vladislav, officially safe, seemed to be very much enjoying this new turn of events.

“Uh… well… I guess that’s true.”

Viago’s face fell. The matter settled, Vladislav rose from the blanket and gestured for you to continue up the stairs as Deacon resumed his so called erotic dance. 

Making it up to your room, you shut the door behind you both, bursting into a suppressed fit of laughter. “What the hell was that?” you asked once your laughter subsided.

Vladislav flopped back onto your bed, boots and all, much to your chagrin, and placed his hands behind his head, essentially taking the entire queen mattress for himself. You kicked off your shoes and sat on the corner of the bed, one leg tucked beneath you.

“Viago suggested that we practice our music tonight, and I vetoed him. So Deacon came up with another idea.”

“Poor Viago,” you smiled.

“Probably should have just rehearsed.”

“I didn’t know you played music. All three of you?”

He grinned wickedly, and you caught a view of his canines. His fangs? “Oh, yes.”

Ignoring his teeth, you continued on. “Are you any good?”

His grin disappeared. “No.”

You laughed again. “Okay. Well, how long do you think we have to hide out in here until it’s safe?”

Vladislav raised an eyebrow at your suggestion. “I’m not going anywhere. He can go for hours.”

“Well, I’ll have to go to sleep at some point, so…” You shrugged. “Just exactly how lost in the sauce is Deacon right now?”

He looked at you as if you’d gone mad. “Lost in the sauce?”

“Drunk,” you clarified.

He laughed. It was a big, booming, warm laugh. You quite liked it. “Not at all, believe it or not.”

You sat in relatively amicable silence for a moment. 

“So you play instruments.” His eyes opened at your words. You hadn’t realized they’d closed. “What else do you guys do all night? Because, Viago told me you were up all night for work, but I’ve noticed by now that that’s not true.”

He shrugged, as much as one can shrug while laying on a bed in his position. “I paint. Viago sculpts. Deacon knits.”

“Very artistic of you all.” You took of note of his failure to respond to your comment about work.

“Deacon and I fence, and I do archery. We all read quite a bit.”

“And go clubbing,” you supplied.

“We go out a lot, yes.”

You both fell into silence again, this time more awkward than amiable.

“You dress funny.” Shit, Y/N! “No, uh, sorry, I mean, not funny… It looks good, actually!” That much was true. He currently wore tight pants with a puffy white shirt, ruffled and open dangerously low on his chest, and cinched at the wrists, covered with a brown vest, equally low cut. Good god, dial it back. “Just, uh, you have, you all have, a unique style. Vintage,” you finished lamely. “Sorry.”

He laughed again and you felt yourself blush. “It’s called fashion.”

You smiled, glad you hadn’t actually offended him. “Right.”

“How was work today?” he asked, taking the conversation firmly away from rude questions and into more appropriate small talk.

“I didn’t have work today. I was out shopping.”

“Ah. Get anything good?”

“A necklace.” Your fingers traced the chain and you debated not taking it out. You wanted to see if he’d react, though, and your curiosity won out. Pulling the cross pendant from your shirt, you held it up for him to see.

Vladislav reacted fiercely. He violently retched, and for a moment you feared he may throw up all over your bed. But as he dry heaved again, his body convulsed, and his boot came up to smack you in the chin. You tumbled off the edge of the bed and onto the floor.

You cried out, hand cupping your surely bruised jaw. 

Suddenly fine, Vladislav rushed over to you, and you scrambled to hide the necklace once again.

“Sorry, sorry,” you weren’t entirely sure why you were the one apologizing, as you were the one injured and on the ground.

You pushed yourself up until you were kneeling, hand once again massaging your sore jaw. 

“Are you alright?”

Before you could answer him, the door swung open to reveal a very concerned Viago. Taking in the scene in front of him, he visibly shifted from concern to anger.

“Vladislav! You promised you wouldn’t sleep with her!”

Vladislav rolled his eyes. “We weren’t—“

“What!” you exclaimed, cutting him off. Only then did you realize what it looked like. You kneeling on the floor with Vladislav standing in front of you. You flung yourself away from him and quickly stood. “It’s not like that. I just fell.”

“Oh.” Viago paused. “Well, anyway, Deacon wants to know if you guys are done.”

Now was your turn to roll your eyes. “Tell him I’m going to sleep. You guys are on your own.”

After once again checking that you were alright, your two flatmates resigned themselves to their fate and returned to the lounge, Vladislav shooting you an indecipherable look.

As you sat alone in your room, you were keenly aware of the necklace that now seemed to to hang so heavily from your neck. 

He really was insane, wasn’t he?


	7. Chapter 7

“Hey,” you greeted the three men who were already seated around the kitchen table. “Is Petyr coming?” 

Viago hesitated. “This doesn’t really pertain to Petyr.”

You’d figured as much. When Viago asked to come down for a flat meeting, your second since moving in, you’d guessed it was about Deacon and his reluctance to do his chores. You were surprised, then, when your flatmates all turned to you and Viago spoke.

“So, Y/N, we don’t want you to feel as though we’re ganging up on you…”

Wait, what?

“Okay…”

Viago continued. “It’s just that you- and not all the time, of course, just sometimes-“

“Stop slamming the front door,” Vladislav interrupted.

Given that Viago, in his attempts to calm you, had very much worried you, you were grateful for Vladislav’s blunt approach.

“Your bedroom door, too,” Deacon added.

Viago offered you a sheepish smile, his fangs just poking out of his mouth. “Ja.”

You felt a bit embarrassed by your transgression. “Have I been waking you guys up?”

“Yes.”

“Sorry. I’ll try to be more conscious of how much force I’m using.”

Viago offered you a real smile this time. “Great! I’m glad we were able to come to an understanding.” With that, he drew a neat line through the impeccably written ‘flat meeting’ on his to do list and flipped his notebook shut.

“Right,” you said. “Uh, did this have to be a whole flat meeting, though?”

Viago stared at you blankly.

“I mean, couldn’t one of you guys just have pulled me aside and asked me to close the door more quietly? Instead of having a whole production?” Despite Viago’s initial spiel, you did feel a bit ganged up on.

“I tried that!” Deacon interjected, clearly offended.

“You did?” You didn’t remember that.

“Last week. I told you that you had woken me up and to be more careful shutting the door!”

Oh, crap. 

He had. To be fair, though, you had thought he was just being a jerk because he didn’t like you, and so you’d dismissed his concerns out of hand. You felt your face heat in embarrassment.

“Oh, right. Well, I, uh, didn’t realize you were serious,” you mumbled.

“What?” Vladislav asked. You could tell from his tone that he was asking because he hadn’t heard you, not because he was shocked or appalled at your words. 

Still, it wasn’t helping how suddenly sheepish you felt. Attempting to speak more clearly you said, “I didn’t think it was actually an issue. I just thought you were just being particular because you don’t like me.”

Now it was Deacon’s turn to look sheepish.

“It’s fine!” You hastily tried to reassure them all. “It’s no big deal, really. I’ll be quieter during the day. And, Deacon, it’s fine. You’re always civil.” Almost always, anyway. “And it’s not like we all need to be best friends, right? Really, it’s fine.”

Looking around the table, you were met with blank stares.

Okay, then. You excused yourself and made your way upstairs to your bedroom, taking care to close the door softly behind you. You wished you could forget the last few minutes.

Only moments later, you heard a knock at the door. 

“Y/N?” It was Viago.

You sighed internally before opening the door. 

“Sorry about that downstairs. I hope it didn’t feel like an ambush.”

“No, of course not,” you lied.

“Good,” he responded before getting to his main point. “Why don’t you come out with us tonight?”

“Like out clubbing?”

He nodded. “Ja. With you and Deacon not really getting on, I figured we could all get to know each other better over a night out.”

Ah. So Viago was the kind of person who needed to be best friends with his flatmates. You didn’t really feel like going out tonight. You’d been up all day, whereas your flatmates have been awake for just a couple of hours. You also weren’t super excited to spend a whole evening with these guys. On the other hand, it had been a while since you went out, and it would be nice to get out of the house for something other than work or grocery shopping. Still, though, didn’t these guys actually, literally kill people when they went out? Maybe? But if you went out with them, it’s not as though they’d bring home a victim. Not someone that you had seen and interacted with. So by that logic, shouldn’t you go out?

Viago was looking at you expectantly.

“Um, okay, sure, why not?”

He grinned excitedly.

“When do we leave?” you asked.

“As soon as you’re ready.”

“Give me 15?”

Viago nodded and left, and you got ready in a heavily expedited version of your routine. You applied a coat of mascara and a layer of powder before brushing through your hair. Quite a bit more casual and simple than your usual going out look, but you hoped your go-to dress would make up for it. It was a classic black LBD, the perfect combination of slutty and classy, fitting your form in the most flattering way. Checking yourself in the mirror revealed someone who looked pretty well put together, all things considered. You pulled on the matching shoes and felt again to be sure the cross necklace was still in place before speeding downstairs.

The guys fell silent at your arrival. It was clear from Deacon’s glare and from the residual energy in the room that they had been talking about you. Viago probably hadn’t gotten the others’ permission to invite you along. But, having already made up your mind to go, you traipsed out the front door and began towards the bus stop, trusting them to follow you.

The bus ride into town was silent and awkward. Your flatmates all boarded ahead of you, and the bus was crowded. Your choice of seat was narrowed down to either squeezing yourself between Viago and the wall, or sitting in a row of three with Deacon and Vladislav. Given your relationship with Deacon, one erotic dance invitation notwithstanding, and what had happened the last time you had any real interaction with Vladislav, you chose to make yourself fit in the narrow space beside Viago. As the bus began to move, you realized that choosing the clearly uncomfortable space sent an explicit message to the other two that you did not want to sit with them.

Upon exiting the bus, the four of you formed a small huddle to discuss the evening’s game plan. 

“Let’s go to Boogie Wonderland,” you offered. They shot you down. “Red Square?” They again refused. “Where do you guys usually go, then?”

“We could start out at the Big Kumara,” Deacon suggested. “I’m supposed to meet Jackie, anyway.”

The other two agreed easily, so you nodded as well. You didn’t know who Jackie was, and you’d never been to the Big Kumara, but as you approached it, you realized you’d seen it before, though never given it much attention. It was more of a townie bar than a club. That might be best, though, given that you didn’t do much for hair or makeup. 

You guessed that the guys must be regulars given the odd and friendly greeting by the bouncer, and how a casual “She’s with us,” from Vladislav was enough to get you the same greeting.

The bar was quiet compared to the street outside. Other than the four of you, the only people there were the two seated at a booth and the bartender. It was simultaneously too dim to see well and too bright compared to the nightclubs you were expecting. It smelled more like the wood paneling on the walls than the greasy pub food you expected they served. Oh well, this night wasn’t really about were you went. It was about spending time with your flatmates. Or at the very least, placating Viago.

“I’ll get the first round. What do you guys want?”

“No thank you.”

“I’m not really in the mood right now.”

“I’m alright.”

You laughed.

They moved to take a larger booth.

“Oh, seriously?” you asked. Who turned down free booze?

“Ja,” Viago answered. “You go ahead, though, and meet us over there,” he said, pointing.

Whatever. It saved you some money. Still, why go to a bar and not get anything to drink?

“What can I get you?” the bartender asked.

You ordered your drink, plus a plate of chips for the table. When he returned with your drink, you gave him your card and asked for a glass of water as well. With the other guys not drinking, you figured you should do your best not to get wildly drunk.

Your beverages and chips in hand, you returned to the booth to find not just your flatmates, but an unfamiliar woman, as well.

“Hi,” you greeted her. “I’m Y/N. Help yourself to some chips.”

“Hi. Jackie,” she introduced herself. “I’m an old friend of Deacon’s.” She reached across the table to shake your hand before taking a few chips.

“Nice to meet you. Can I get you a drink?” You took a sip of yours.

“No,” Deacon answered for her. “Jackie isn’t staying. We just have some things to discuss.”

His tone brokered no discussion on your part. You wondered exactly how they knew each other. The two excused themselves from the table, leaving you, Viago, and Vladislav alone. 

“‘Do you guys come here a lot?”

“We know the owner,” Vladislav answered, “so we can get in even on busy nights.”

You wondered if he meant nights that the Big Kumara was busy, or nights when Te Aro in general was busy. Because it was busy out on the street, and you imagined in other bars, right now.

“That’s cool.” 

You downed your drink quickly in the awkward silence that followed, and didn’t bother to excuse yourself before going up to the bar for a second.

“Same?” the bartender asked. 

You nodded. “Do you know those guys?” You gestured back to your booth.

“They’re in here a lot, yeah.”

“Are they a bit… odd?”

“No odder than anyone else who frequents here.” The bartender gave you a knowing smile that you could not decipher and did not return.

You sighed, taking your drink and returning to the booth, where Vladislav sat alone. You really weren’t in the mood to be alone with Vladislav yet, but you didn’t have much of a choice.

“Where’s Viago?” You took a big swig of your drink.

He pointed to the back exit, where Viago stood with Deacon and Jackie. “He’s trying to convince Deacon to get on board with Red Square.”

“Red Square?” You perked up, figuratively and literally, sitting a bit straighter in the booth. You suddenly felt lighter. If you had to spend an evening with the guys, it would be better to spend it in a place less conducive to conversation and one more conducive to partying.

He laughed gently. It was warm and fuzzy. 

God, you were a lightweight.

“I like your laugh.”

His smile pulled gently at the corner of his mustache, and you found yourself staring at the gap between his front teeth. “I think you’re a bit of a lightweight.”

“Am not,” you lied.

He didn’t fight you on it. “The Big Kumara isn’t really your style, clearly, so we’re going to go to a club.”

You downed the rest of your drink quickly, and chased it with your water. Vladislav exited the booth and stood beside you, offering you a hand up.

“Can you walk?” 

“I’m barely buzzed!” you protested before taking his hand. Looking up to his face, you realized he was joking. Teasing you. “Oh, ha ha, very funny.”

When you reached the exit, Jackie had left and Viago and Deacon were waiting for you. “Red Square?” Viago asked.

You nodded too eagerly. Perhaps you were a little bit tipsy.

Red Square was a few blocks away, but you were in fact a lightweight, and your buzz was turning you into quite the chatterbox.

“Jackie seems nice.”

Deacon nodded. “She’s okay.”

“I like her outfit.”

You caught Vladislav’s smirk from behind his hair. “You think I’m funny,” you accused him.

“Sometimes.”

“Red Square!” You picked up speed as you saw the club.

“Five dollar cover,” the bouncer said.

“I got it.” You offered partly out of an effort to be friendly, and partly out of laziness, as the only cash you had on you was a twenty dollar bill.

You forged ahead into the loud, dark atmosphere as your flatmates all paused at the door. “What are you guys waiting for? Come in!”

As if suddenly convinced, the three entered the club. 

“This place is amazing!” Viago yelled over the music.

“You’ve never been here?”

He shook his head. 

“You’ll love it!”

Viago, Deacon, and Vladislav spoke among themselves before heading towards the dance floor. You made your way to the bar, grabbing a barstool that was luckily open, and ordering a drink. You scanned the room for your friends. It was hard to see through the crowd, though, and you couldn’t quite find them.

“Hey, gorgeous.” You turned to see someone new in the seat beside you. He was very attractive. Dark curls and stunning brown eyes, with a blindingly white smile. “Can I buy you a drink?”

As if on cue, the bartender returned with your order. “Sorry,” you told him.

He didn’t seem very bothered. “What brings a girl like you here all by herself?”

This guys was 0 for 10 on originality, but you smiled in spite of yourself. Whether due to him or the nice buzz you had going on, you weren’t sure.

“I’m actually here with my flatmates.” You gestured vaguely at the dance floor. “Y/N.” You introduced yourself.

“James.” You politely shook his hand, but felt a bit silly doing so. “I’m going to order a pretzel. Want in?”

“Heck yeah.”

After a fair bit of small talk, one pretzel, and the rest of your drink, James leaned close and whispered in your ear. It was nice, intimate. But maybe too intimate? “How about I buy you that drink now?” 

“No thanks. I should probably get back to my friends.” You liked James. He was friendly and attractive, and very clearly into you. But he was getting hot and heavy a little too fast, and that really wasn’t what you were here for. In fact, you were beginning to feel a bit guilty for spending the evening away from the guys, since that was the whole point of Viago inviting you along.

“Come on,” he whispered, hand moving up your thigh.

You grabbed his hand and thrust it away. “I should find my friends.”

His hand moved to your upper arm, gripping just too tightly. “Don’t be such a bitch.”

“Hey!” You looked from James over to the bartender, who was too busy at the other end of the bar to notice what was going on.

“Is this guy bothering you?” You felt a wave of relief wash over you at Deacon’s familiar voice above you and his cool hand on your shoulder. 

“Who the hell are-“ James paled as he looked up at Deacon, before almost falling off of his stool in his attempt to get away.

You looked over your shoulder, but Deacon seemed normal to you. “What did you-“

“Are you okay?” Deacon asked as he took James’ seat.

“Yeah. Thank you.” You ordered another drink from the passing bartender.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.” You rubbed your arm absentmindedly. “I’m glad you were here, though. Where are the other guys?” you asked.

“I’m not sure.”

You scoured the club and briefly spotted Vladislav in a small booth with two women. Two, really? You couldn’t find Viago on the dance floor or in a booth.

“Viago told me what happened with you and Vladislav the other day.”

What?

“What?”

He repeated himself. “Viago told me what happened-“

“Nothing happened!” You were quick to defend yourself.

“I know, I know. I just wanted to explain why Viago said what he said.”

You didn’t love that they had been talking about you.

“It wasn’t about you at all. Once we found out our new flatmate was a woman, before me or Vlad even saw you, we made a blanket statement that no one would hit on you. Just as general precaution to avoid trouble.”

Hit on you or murder you, you guessed. Still, though, it was sensible either way.

“There was a bit of a special emphasis placed on Vlad, but that still wasn’t about you. It’s just because he’s a bit of a, uh, ladies’ man, I guess. And knowing Vlad’s history, like Viago and I do, Viago just leapt to the wrong conclusion. It was about Vladislav, not you.”

You nodded, looking back to where Vladislav sat with two women. A ladies’ man. You could see that, you supposed. He wasn’t conventionally attractive, really, but he wasn’t unappealing. And there was something about him. A magnetism of some sort. You could understand why women were drawn to him.

You thought about his laugh.

“I just figured Viago and Vladislav wouldn’t say anything about it to you.”

You downed almost your entire drink in one go. “Thanks.”

Deacon nodded.

“You know doing erotic dances for your friends is weird, right?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a bit of a ‘write drink, edit sober’ thing, except it was more ‘write drunk, edit drunk.’ So let me know if there’s any obvious issues. Also I have ever been to Red Square, or Wellington, or even New Zealand. So let me know if I’m doing a shit job, there, too. Thanks!


	8. Chapter 8

You woke the next morning with a massive headache, unsure of how you managed to make it home. You were on top of the bed, rather than tucked into it, and you still wore your favorite black dress. Thankfully, though, you had the presence of mind to take off your shoes before collapsing in bed. The underwire of your bra dug painfully into your skin, and you decided then and there to wear sweats for the rest of today. You rolled onto your side to find your phone and check the time, but instead found a glass of water, two pills, and a note on your bedside table. 

‘Y/N, thanks for coming out with us tonight. Please drink the water and take the painkillers; I’m sure you’ll need them.’ The impeccable script gave away the writer, but it was nonetheless signed by Viago. You took the pills, chugging the water until it was gone and then gasping for air. You were horribly dehydrated, and wondered just how many drinks you’d had last night. 

Making your way to the bathroom, you were greeted by a pathetic raccoon in the mirror. You hadn’t changed your clothes, nor had you washed your face, apparently. You wiped the mascara from under your eyes, but only made it worse. It would probably just be easier to shower.

~

You sat at the bar of Boogie Wonderland for the eighth night in a row. Ninth night in a row? You’d lost count. You sipped your drink slowly. You didn’t want to get drunk, but you knew they’d frown on you sitting at the bar every night without ever actually ordering anything. 

Your eyes never left the door. You sat and waited from five o’clock until closing time every night. You needed to see him again. The man you’d chased. He’d known you; you knew he had. He could tell you what you needed to know. 

You felt almost crazed. How could you sit here, every night, all alone, waiting for someone who wouldn’t come, to give you the answers to questions you didn’t even have?

Please, please, please, come into the bar.

You went home disappointed yet again, and so desperately lonely.

~

Rummaging through the fridge, you felt a presence behind you. Had the sun set already? 

“Hey,” you greeted, head still in the fridge. Whichever one it was didn’t respond. Finding nothing appetizing, you stood up and shut the fridge. You turned to speak to your flatmate, but froze in fear.

The thing standing in front of you wasn’t Deacon, Vladislav, or Viago. It didn’t even look human. The creature wore long dark robes and was pale, almost bluish, and tall, with pale eyes and long, pointed fingers. Worst of all were the teeth. Each was elongated and pointed, a grotesque mouth full of fangs.

His eyes were fixed on yours as you stood there, unable to even speak, let alone move. You were hyper aware of your racing heart.

“Petyr!” 

You both turned in unison to see Deacon standing at the doorway. 

“Petyr! Go back downstairs! I’ll bring you something to eat later.”

Relief washed over you. Petyr. Of course. He was taking this vampire thing to an aesthetic extreme, surely, but you you were relieved not to be facing some creature, or home intruder, or… something…

Petyr turned away, moving slowly, his robes swirling around his legs as he exited the kitchen and returned, presumably, to his basement dwelling.

“Are you okay?” Deacon asked hesitantly. 

“Yeah, fine. Just startled, I guess.” Your eyes lingered on the doorway through which Petyr had just exited. “He’s more, uh,” you struggled to find the correct word. Intense, maybe? “Just, more, than you three are.”

Deacon’s eye narrowed. Not in anger, but in confusion, it seemed. Maybe suspicion? After a long pause he spoke. “He’s older than us.”

You nodded, though his response had confused you rather than cleared anything up. You decided to change the subject. “Thanks for getting me home safely last night, and for helping me with that creep at the bar. I was pretty out of it. I don’t actually remember anything after our talk, when we were sitting at the bar.”

“Really? Well, you seemed to be having a pretty good time.” His smile seemed to imply he was holding something back.

“Oh, crap. What did I do? Did I throw up?” It had happened before.

Deacon laughed. “No, no, nothing that bad. You just come out of your shell quite a bit when you drink. You danced a lot, and you talked a LOT.”

You grimaced. “What about?”

“Everything.”

You turned to the new voice, and saw Vladislav entering the room.

“Sorry,” you offered. “I hope I wasn’t too obnoxious.” You’d been known to get that way when drinking.

“No,” Deacon said, “you were a riot.”

Better than being obnoxious. You’d take it.

“Viago’s just glad we’re all mates now,” Vladislav said.

For the briefest of moments, you were glad too. For a millisecond, you were all friends and everything was good.

But the feeling didn’t last long, and suddenly reality came crashing back around you as you thought about the blood, and the coffins, and the cool silver necklace tucked under your t-shirt. 

They weren’t your friends. They were completely out of touch with reality. They actually thought they were vampires. Not only did they think they were vampires, sometimes they actually killed people about it. And you’d spent the previous night partying with them.

A wave of guilt rolled over you, so heavy that for a minute you couldn’t breathe. You should go the police. Why hadn’t you? You didn’t know why. Fear? Maybe, though the fear came and went, and you were less and less frightened of them every day. 

There was probably some level of cognitive dissonance. There were your flatmates that you were becoming friends with. The ones who held normal flat meetings and said hi as they passed you in the house and left you painkillers after a night of heavy partying. And those flatmates were different from the ones who were dripping in blood and delusion.

Except they weren’t.

You thought again of Kura, the missing woman you’d never seen but whose blood you were fairly certain you’d wiped from your foot with a damp tissue.

You felt light-headed.

“Y/N? Are you alright?” Vladislav put his hand on your shoulder, and you violently yanked yourself away from him.

He looked almost hurt by your reaction, and you quickly apologized. “Sorry, I just spaced out a bit and you startled me.”

“Y/N just met Petyr,” Deacon offered, misplacing the source of your sudden and, to them, seemingly unprompted unease.

The two shared a look you couldn’t decipher.

“How did that go?” Vladislav asked, almost too nonchalantly.

“Fine. He’s not quite what I expected, though.” To say the least.

Both of them were looking at you so intently. You rambled on just to fill the silence.

“I just met him briefly, though, we didn’t even get a chance to speak. He scared the crap out of me when I turned around and saw him.”

They continued to look at you as if you were a puzzle. Like what you were saying didn’t quite make sense. You wondered if you had said something wrong. Looking between Vladislav standing above you, and Deacon sitting across from you, you were unable to determine at all what either of them might be thinking.

“What?”

“Petyr’s an unusual guy,” Vladislav said as he crossed his arms and leaned back to sit against the stove.

“I noticed.”

“Most people are more… surprised by Petyr than you seem to be.”

You felt almost as though you were being interrogated. You looked to Deacon for guidance, but his face gave away nothing.

Turning back to Vladislav, you answered, “This is a pretty unusual living situation. I guess I’m getting used to it.”

That much was true, and it made you feel ill. Getting used to it.

The answer seemed to satisfy them, and the two began talking about an upcoming dinner party, leaving you free to get lost in your thoughts, the very last place you would want to get lost in.


	9. Chapter 9

“Y/N! You’re still here!” 

You had entered the kitchen, and apparently startled Deacon. It was a reversal of your usual roles that quite pleased you.

“Yeah; I decided not to go out, after all.” You’d told the guys you were going to see a movie tonight, but after the hectic day of email bombardments and near crises of your online job, you’d decided you’d rather spend a relaxing evening lounging in bed with a book.

His eyes were wide, and you could see that his mind was racing a mile a minute.

“Is that a problem?”

“Jackie is bringing people over for dinner tonight. We’re hosting a dinner party.”

As if on cue, Viago and Vladislav entered the kitchen. Both looked rather unpleasantly surprised to see you, as well. 

“That’s fine. I can grab some food and be out of your hair. I was planning on spending the night in my room, anyway.”

The long pause was palpable.

Viago was the first to break the silence. “You would be okay being in the house, knowing we… had people over?”

You shrugged. “Yeah. Why would I-?”

You froze. ‘Had people over.’ Did he mean…? You scanned each of their faces, all three looking uncomfortable and vaguely alarmed. Were they actually going to kill someone tonight? Is that what Jackie did? Brought them people to kill? Was she in on this weird delusion? No, that couldn’t be it. No way. You must be misunderstanding. They wouldn’t admit that’s what they were doing. Unless they knew that you knew.

Not that you knew anything.

Suspected, really. 

But, still. Did they know you suspected? The conversation you’d had with Deacon and Vladislav in the kitchen the other day, had that given it away? They’d said themselves that you were too cavalier about Petyr. You’d thought at the time that it felt like an interrogation. Maybe it was. Maybe they decided you were in on it. Okay with it.

You’d told them that you were getting used to it.

But you hadn’t meant… It was just… Weirdness. You were getting used to weirdness.

Your mouth felt dry. You nonetheless swallowed before speaking. “So they’re coming over for dinner… and they’re not, uh, leaving…?”

Viago wouldn’t meet your eyes.

Deacon still seemed perplexed.

Vladislav stared you down, with a lack of shame that made you feel weak. He nodded once as he answered simply, “Yes.”

You felt dizzy. Ill. Guilty? No. Shocked? No. You couldn’t place the feeling. 

“Y/N?” 

You weren’t sure who said your name. It sounded funny. Hollow. Echoey. Like when someone spoke to you while you were submerged in the bathtub. Your hands were falling asleep, and your vision was grainy, like on an old TV set. 

“I’m passing out.”

You said it aloud the second you realized it was happening. The edges of your vision darkened. Tunnel vision? Is that what it was called? This had only happened to you once before, after donating plasma. You’d stood up too quickly afterwards and the same thing happened. The tingling, the odd hearing, the loss of vision. You told the nurse, ‘I think I’m going to black out.’ He had you sit back down, but it was too late, and you’d passed out in the chair.

Maybe you should sit down now? Your vision was entirely black. You wondered for a moment what your eyes looked like right now. Glassy? Were your pupils dilated to let in more light? Maybe that wasn’t good for them… Sit down and put your head between your knees. You could hear blood rushing in your ears. Is that why everything sounded funny? You moved to lower yourself to the ground, but you fell too quickly. 

You heard someone shout. It was a nice sound. Warm and real and

You opened your eyes to find yourself staring at the ceiling above your bed. What happened? You had gone down to the kitchen…?

You sat up quickly. The dinner party. The admittance of what was going to happen. Or of what had happened? Oh god, how much time had passed? You had to call the police. Shit, you should have gone to the police ages ago. What the hell was wrong with you? What’s the worst that could have happened by going to the police, really?

You reached for your phone, only to slap your hand against the empty nightstand. You checked your pockets and scanned the bed. No phone. You must have left it downstairs. Were they still down there? You didn’t have a clock; without your phone, you had no way of knowing how much time had passed. 

You couldn’t just go down there. What if they were in the middle of…? Of whatever it was they were doing?

You approached your bedroom door but didn’t open it. The last thing you wanted was to draw attention to yourself. Instead, you pressed your ear against it, listening for any sign of activity. You heard voices, muffled enough that you couldn’t make out the words. There was a woman’s voice. Not just your flatmates, then. There were still people here.

You moved back to the bed, and sat there. You didn’t reach for your book. A sense of idle unease was growing inside you. A sort of restless energy. You felt like you had to do something, anything. But what could you do? You couldn’t get help. Your phone was downstairs. And going downstairs at all right now, whether to retrieve our phone or to leave the house, wasn’t an option. You wanted to scream.

Your flatmates were murdering someone.

It was like you were living in a horror film. 

No. It was like you were watching a horror film. You were in the audience, and you wanted to scream to the characters on screen. Don’t go in there! Don’t trust them! Run away! But they couldn’t hear you, of course; they were characters on a screen. 

Only this was much worse. It was real. And the characters weren’t fictional. And you couldn’t do anything about anything.

You were pulled from your thoughts by the sound of someone sprinting down your hallway. Your hall was a dead end; there was nowhere to go.

The bedroom door flew open, and a stranger ran in, slamming the door behind him. 

Nowhere to go but into your bedroom.

A horrible, hissing, spitting noise came from the hall, only to stop abruptly when the man yelled, “Fuck off!” He turned to you, eyes frantically searching the room. “What the hell is going on? Where am I?”

You were frozen, still perched atop your bed. If the man was frantic, moving, dynamic, you were the opposite. You stared, unblinking, unmoving, static. Your heart raced, though externally you may as well have been part of the décor.

He opened the side door and charged into your en suite bathroom, only to march back into the bedroom when he realized where it led. “How do I get out of here?”

You just gaped at him. Say something, Y/N!

“Hello!” he yelled at you.

“I don’t-“ You stopped as suddenly as you started, when his backpack began unzipping of its own accord. No, not of it’s own accord, you realized. A hand was unzipping it from the inside, and the attached arm was slowly reaching out. You felt as though your body temperature had physically dropped, when, to your growing horror, the arm grabbed at the man’s face while an accompanying head rose from the backpack. 

You felt a piercing scream tear from your body, though you didn’t actually hear it. 

You did hear when the stranger yelled, though, shaking off the backpack and violently throwing it across the room where it fell to the floor beside your bed. You looked down at the bag as the man ran from the room, only to realize the entire body pulling itself from the pack and scratching its way across the floor was that of Deacon. He laughed manically as he emerged from the much too small bag and chased the man. 

With the door left open, you could more clearly hear both the laughter and the yells that were occurring throughout the house. You heard a rapid series of thuds at one point, but couldn’t place their source.

You weren’t very focused on the noises, though. Instead, your eyes were glued to the backpack. You picked it up and looked inside. It was a normal backpack. The canvas felt rough on your fingers, and the only contents seemed to be a laptop, a water bottle, and a wallet. It was just a normal backpack. Deacon couldn’t fit into it; no one could. No one human, anyway.

But, Deacon had come out of it.

It was just a normal backpack.

You were still sitting there, however much later, on the edge of your bed, the backpack clutched in your hands as you stared at it, seeing nothing, when someone at the door cleared their throat. Normally, the noise would startle you, make you jump. You looked up slowly and calmly this time, to find Vladislav standing in the doorway.

“Are you alright?” he asked. “Deacon said he may have frightened you.”

“So he sent you? You’re hardly the most comforting presence.” You didn’t realize how shaken, upset, and angry you were until you spoke. Your words were bitter. Hateful. He didn’t seem bothered by them, but you regretted them instantly nonetheless.

“Deacon didn’t think he should come up, and Viago is a bit too bloody right now.”

Bloody. Right.

“Are you a vampire?” 

Vladislav remained expressionless.

It was a stupid question, really. There were no such things as vampires.

It was a stupid question, really. What else could they possibly be?

“Yes.” He walked into the room and sat beside you on the bed. He wasn’t so close as to be touching you but he wasn’t more than an arm’s reach away. “We thought you knew that.”

“No. I mean, yeah. I just-“ You paused to search for the right words. You were extremely overwhelmed. He didn’t press you, which you appreciated. “I didn’t think vampires were real.”

“You bought a crucifix. You saw Viago covered in a victim’s blood. You met Petyr. We thought you had figured it out.”

“I had, technically, I just… I don’t know. I thought it was makeup on Petyr, and that you guys were serial killers or something, I thought that you all thought vampires were real and that you were delusional, and, and… I don’t know,” you finished lamely.

Vladislav laughed in that boisterous way of his, and you somehow smiled in spite of yourself.

“You thought we thought we were vampires, but not that we were vampires?” He was still grinning.

“Well, to be fair, did you think vampires were real? You know, before?”

“Of course.” 

“Really?” you asked incredulously.

He nodded. “But, that was the Middle Ages. Everyone believed in vampires back then.”

You scanned his face, but couldn’t tell if he was kidding or not.

“Right…”

Vladislav sighed. “Y/N,” he said gently. He reached over and gingerly pried the backpack from your fingers. You had forgotten you were still holding it. He set the backpack on the ground, and took one of your hands in both of his. “Do you feel how cool my skin is?”

It was cool. You hadn’t registered it before, but you’d noticed it. They were all cold, all the time. 

He manipulated your hand until he held your wrist between his fingers. He brought it up to his chest, which was, as usual, exposed by a low cut shirt. He placed your hand firmly against his cool body, your fingers tangling in with his chest hair. You ignored the intimacy of it all.

“I don’t have a heartbeat.”

You realized he was right. You pressed your palm more firmly against him, moving it around in search of a pulse. Unable to find one, you brought your eyes up to his. Meeting his gaze, you yanked your hand away from its resting position on his chest.

“Deacon came out of that backpack,” you told him.

He nodded. “He told me.”

Rising from the bed, he walked to the center of the room, and turned to face you. “Don’t panic.”

You nodded, though you had no faith in your ability to keep any such promise.

His eyes not leaving yours, he rose from the ground. You looked down at his feet and they weren’t on the ground. Looking back up to his face, you saw him still staring at you. “Are you okay?” 

You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak.

With that, he rose higher, faster. He was actually flying. He flipped himself upside down and sat on your ceiling, his hair hanging down, but otherwise looking perfectly at home lounging on the peeling paint above your floor. He looked down at you, where you were still perched on the bed in accordance with the laws of gravity. Suddenly, he was no longer on your ceiling, and a bat was flitting around the room, instead. You let out a small shriek. The bat quickly flew to the center of the room, and once again turned into your flatmate, who held his hands up, as if in innocence.

“Sorry. I should have warned you.”

“No, it’s okay.” You realized how wide your eyes were, and made a conscious effort to relax your face. “It’s kind of a lot to take in.”

He leaned against the doorframe. “I understand. I can have Viago schedule a flat meeting, so we can all talk about this. Would that help you?”

Help may be too generous a word. But, having a set, structured time to air this out, where you could ask questions and really come to terms with what was going on couldn’t actually hurt. Maybe it would be a bit beneficial.

“Yes, please. Thanks.”

Vladislav nodded, but lingered in the doorway.

“I might go to bed now, I’ve got work in the morning.”

He nodded. “Good night, Y/N.”

“Night.”

He closed the door behind him when he left, but you didn’t move for a while.

Vampires. 

Real, actual vampires.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fucking finally! Reader’s got dumb bitch disease, but to be fair, wouldn’t you need to see some pretty compelling evidence before you believed you lived with actual vampires?


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Mentions of depression and suicidal ideation.

You entered the lounge in your pajamas, your face already washed, and your hair messy. You collapsed onto the couch and started scrolling through your phone, making excellent progress on spending the evening in a near vegetative state.

“You’re not going out tonight?” Dawn asked.

You didn’t look up from your phone. “No. It’s been weeks. That guy’s not coming back; I scared him off for good. So I figured I might as well stay home until my depressive state killed me, quite possibly by my own hand,” you deadpanned.

“Y/N. That’s not funny.”

“Sorry.”

Changing the subject from your macabre exaggeration, Dawn suggested, “Let’s go out tonight.”

You threw her a look.

“No, really. Like actually out. Not just you sitting alone and sad at bar waiting for someone you may or may not have known to show up. Let’s go out, you and me, for a girl’s night. We’ll go out for drinks and dancing. Not Boogie Wonderland. You need a break from that place. Some other club.”

“Rain check?” You didn’t feel like going out. You didn’t feel like having fun. You felt like lying on the couch until you wasted away.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea. I’m really worried about you.”

You brushed off her comment, but you were getting sort of worried about yourself, as well. You’d stopped going to see your psychologist. Earlier in the day you found yourself wishing you would go to sleep and just not wake up. You were constantly miserable, surviving but not living.

“Well if you really don’t want to go out, why don’t we stay in and have a movie night? I’ll rent something online and then order a pizza, my treat, okay?”

You didn’t really feel like doing anything, but you recognized that Dawn was trying her best, and you appreciated it. And watching a movie and binging on pizza in your pjs seemed much more manageable that getting dressed up to go out and party.

You nodded. “Okay. Thanks.”

~

The kitchen table was much too small for all five of you. Your elbows bumped either Vladislav on your left or Petyr on your right every time you shifted. Petyr sort of gave you the heebie jeebies, so you found yourself leaning slightly away from him, putting you uncomfortably close to Vladislav. You suggested relocating to the dining room, but were told that it was currently covered in blood and had a corpse laying on the table. You weren’t sure what was more unsettling, the fact that that was the state of the dining room, or that that news was delivered to you so nonchalantly. Nevertheless, the dining room was to an option, so you were all squeezed around the tiny kitchen table.

Viago cleared his throat before beginning. “We are here to clear the air about our being vampires and discuss our living situation with Y/N. It might be helpful if we reintroduced ourselves, properly, this time. I’ll go first.” He turned to address you directly. I am Viago Von Dorna Schmarten Scheden Heimburg.”

You stared blankly.

“Oh, and I’m 379 years old,” he added as an afterthought.

You tried to do the mental math in your head, but quickly gave up and decided to figure it out later.

“Deacon Brucke. I’m 183 years old.”

“Vladislav the Poker. 862 years old.”

He might not have been kidding about the Middle Ages last night, after all. You turned to Petyr, anticipating his introduction. 

“Petyr,” he rasped, his voice as cold and creepy as the rest of him.

You waited for his age, but he stared blankly at you with his pale eyes, not volunteering any further information.

“We don’t know how old Petyr is,” Viago explained. “He lost track. Over 8,000, though.”

Your jaw dropped. “For real?” 

Your turned back to Petyr and he nodded once. Shit. Okay, then.

Viago continued, “Y/N, do have any questions about vampires in general or specifically about any of us?”

You figured a general ‘Tell me about vampires.’ was too open-ended, and you tried to think of a more specific question. You had a lot of questions, though, and you didn’t know where to start. You also had some vague ideas and assumptions about vampires, but you didn’t know which, if any, were true. “How about I just tell you what I’ve heard about vampires, and you guys can correct me where I’m wrong and fill in the gaps. Does that work?”

The four looked to one another before nodding.

“So, you-“ You realized you didn’t quite feel comfortable referring to them as vampires, so you restarted, more generally. “So, vampires need to consume human blood. They sleep in coffins, during the day. Sunlight, garlic, silver, and crosses are all bad for them.” You looked around to see that all four were still nodding along, so you continued, rattling things off a bit faster. “Not showing up in mirrors, turning into bats, flying, having to be invited in, wooden stakes, hypnosis, and whatever Deacon did with that guy’s backpack.”

“Teleportation,” Deacon clarified.

You nodded, but tried not to give it too much thought. Watching him crawl out of that backpack was easily the most horrifying thing you’d ever encountered, and you felt the ball of fear and anxiety in your stomach return just remembering it.

“Vampires also have quicker and superior healing ability than humans.”

“And it’s not just bats,” Deacon added. “Cats and dogs, too. But with practice it can be any animal. Vladislav is known for his transformation abilities.”

Vladislav smiled proudly. “That’s not practice, though, that’s skill.”

“Ja, some vampires have certain abilities that other vampires don’t. I once met a vampire who could become invisible,” Viago explained.

“It isn’t just crucifixes, either.” Vladislav glanced quickly to your chest where he knew your necklace hung. “It’s any religious icons or words.”

“Really? Words? Like even if I just say ‘god’-“

You were cut off by wincing and hissing from around the table.

“Don’t do that!” Deacon scolded you.

“Shit. Sorry.” As frightening as vampires inherently were, it made you feel better that they had their weaknesses. “So is it just vampires? That are real, I mean? Or is every mythological creature real? Do I need to be on the lookout for, like, ghosts?”

“Ghosts aren’t real,” Deacon scoffed.

“Of course ghosts are real,” Viago argued.

“Oh really? Have you ever seen a ghost?”

“Not technically. But the house I grew up in was haunted! There was a spirit who lived in the walls.”

“There was not. It was probably a rat.”

“You think I would confuse a rat for a ghost?”

“So, there’s no reason for me to change my thoughts on ghosts?” you interrupted.

“Ghosts are real,” Vladislav answered. You took it with a grain of salt, though. “Werewolves are real, too.” The rest of the group nodded. “I wouldn’t go out on full moons, if I were you. There is a pack that roams in Te Aro.”

That thought chilled you. You were sure you’d gone out in Te Aro on a full moon before. Then again, you’d gone out many times before unaware that there were vampires, including your current flatmates, out and about.

“Zombies and witches, too.”

“We’re not sure what all exists,” Viago told you. “Lots of myths are true, and lots aren’t. Some Maori myths are based on real creatures.”

“Oh! Petyr, remember the taniwha that attacked our ship when we came to New Zealand?”

Petyr nodded solemnly.

Vampires, werewolves, assorted creatures. Your entire worldview was being forcibly changed over these past 24 hours, but you just nodded. What else could you do?

“I’m safe, right?” you asked suddenly. “From you guys? I mean, there’s literally a dead body in the other room.” You were afraid it sounded more accusatory than you meant it, but you felt it was a fair question, all in all.

“We can control ourselves,” Deacon said, somewhat indignantly. 

“You’re our flatmate and our friend. You don’t have to worry.”

“Thanks.” You thought it was odd to thank someone for not killing you, but you didn’t know what else to say. “Is there anything you guys need from me? As a human flatmate? Other than not slamming the doors and being quiet during daylight hours?”

“Don’t tell anyone we’re vampires,” Vladislav said sternly. “Not anyone. Not ever. Vampire hunters are also real and when word gets out that you are a vampire, you tend not to be around soon after.” He, as well as the other three, looked deadly serious. 

You nodded quickly to reassure them. “I won’t tell anyone.” You looked around the table. Everyone was still seated, though it felt like the natural conclusion to the flat meeting. “About the dining room…?”

“Jackie will be here to clean it up later tonight,” Deacon said.

“Is she a vampire, too?”

“No. She is my familiar.”

“Familiar?” To you, the word conjured images of black kittens following cartoon witches on broomsticks. You weren’t sure how the term applied to the woman you’d once met.

“Slave,” Vladislav clarified.

You looked at him in shock, and he returned your gaze, shameless and undisturbed. It wasn’t the first time something that had appalled you had entirely unaffected him. You wondered if that was a result of his being a vampire, his living for over 800 years, his being from the Middle Ages, or if it was just how he was as a person. 

Undoubtedly sensing your discomfort, Viago clarified, “A familiar serves a vampire for a while in exchange for being turned into a vampire after service.”

You calmed a bit. That sounded better than ‘slave.’ “So you’re going to turn her into a vampire?”

“No,” Deacon snorted.

“What? Why not?”

“Familiars don’t get turned into vampires.”

“Well, sometimes, probably, they do,” Viago argued. “I’ve never actually heard of it happening, though.”

“You’ve lost me,” you told them honestly.

Vladislav sighed. “Familiars exchange their service for the promise of becoming a vampire. Then they serve their masters until they die of old age or are killed.”

You exclaimed in disgust. “That’s horrible.”

Vladislav shrugged, his sleeve brushing your bare arm. These guys all ate actual, live people to survive. You supposed their moral compasses would have to be a bit more skewed than yours was. 

However, despite your clear distaste for it all, you felt relieved to know they were vampires. It was one thing to kill because you could, or because you wanted to, as you thought had been the case before last night. It was another to kill because you had to. Yes, innocent people still died, and yes, your flatmates seemed to enjoy it. Deacon’s manic laughter as he chased that man out of your room was sure to haunt you for a while to come. But no matter how awful it was for the victims, or or how little guilt they felt about it, they had to do it to survive. And that fact alone made you feel better, if only a bit.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is so short. And sorry for being MIA last week. That’s the #depression for ya.

Raised voices woke you from your sleep. You rolled over, pulling a pillow over your head to drown out the noise. You were still able to hear the loud thud that shook the floor. You sighed in exasperation, slamming the pillow down beside you. Fucking nocturnal idiots.

You made your way downstairs to find not only the three usual nocturnal idiots, but also one you never would have expected. The stranger that had run into your room that night, the night you had finally found out you were flatting with real vampires, was standing in the lounge.

“-flying around the house! Do you want to draw attention to this house?” Deacon was yelling at the man. That was likely what had woken you up. 

“Uh, hi,” you greeted the man. You’d thought he was dead. When your flatmates had told you about the corpse in the dining room, you had just assumed it was his. How did he even manage to get away? The terrifying memory of Deacon crawling out of that backpack flashed into your mind before you forced it back. How could anyone escape four vampires?

“Hi, I’m Nick,” the man introduced himself, flashing you a smile and a wave, his brief smile showing off a set of fangs.

Ah. So he didn’t escape four vampires.

Likely seeing your confusion, he clarified. “Petyr bit me.” He stretched his face into a grimace in order to clearly show off his fangs.

The mental image of being killed by Petyr, his long fingers pinning you so you couldn’t escape, his many long teeth piercing and ripping your skin… It was chilling. You felt a wave of empathy for the new vampire in front of you.

“I’m Y/N. Nice to meet you… officially.”

You felt a second wave wash over you, one of guilt. You recalled his frantic last moments alive, and how you stood there, frozen, watching, as he was hunted by your flatmates. You turned your gaze to the floor, no longer feeling able to meet his gaze.

“Do you still have my backpack?”

Still looking at the floorboards, you weren’t sure whether he was addressing you specifically or the room at large, but you answered anyway. You still had it in your room, beside the bed, unmoved where Vladislav had left it on that night.

“It’s up in my room. I’ll go get it.”

“I’ll come with you,” Nick offered.

You paused and shot a look around the room. Viago and Deacon didn’t react, but Vladislav, sensing your unease, gave you a single nod. You bit the inside of your lip in nervousness, but turned and led Nick up the stairs. On one hand, you felt a sort of bond with him. Seeing Deacon climb from that bag, and discovering the existence of vampires together will do that, you guessed. But on the other hand, you didn’t know this man. He wasn’t your friend. And he wasn’t depending on you for rent. He could easily and literally eat you alive. So, you were hesitant to be alone with him.

You made a point of leaving the bedroom door open after you both entered the room.

“Here,” you handed him the bag. “I haven’t used the stuff.”

He gave you an odd look. Obviously. Why would you have used his stuff?

You stumbled over your words, quickly trying to explain what you’d meant. “So, I don’t know if the laptop still works. It hit the wall and the floor pretty hard when you threw it. It could be broken.”

“Oh, yeah, right. Ta.”

“No worries.”

Nick slung the bag over his shoulder and turned to head back downstairs.

“Did it hurt?” 

He turned back to face you.

“What?”

“Being turned into a vampire? Did it hurt?”

You weren’t sure where the question had come from. You hadn’t really thought about it before. But, to be fair, you hadn’t ever been confronted with someone who had so recently become a vampire.

“Yeah. Took days. It was like a really bad fever, with chills and aches and nausea and my eyes bled and stuff. It’s all good now, though.”

“So, Petyr just bit you…?” You realized you didn’t actually know how becoming a vampire worked. Something to do with being bitten, probably, but beyond that you had no idea. You would never, given a million guesses, have guessed that bleeding out of your eyes for days was part of the process. 

“Yeah, he drank all my blood, and I woke up in his basement. He gave me a cup of his blood to drink and then I went home and transformed, I guess.”

At a loss for what to say, you simply nodded. You almost apologized to him, but swallowed it down. You felt guilty, but what could you have done? What would you even apologize for? Not overpowering a house of supernatural creatures in order to buy him time to escape? Nothing you could have done would have prevented this. Besides, you didn’t even know if he was distressed by his new status as a vampire. Still, you felt horrible.

“You coming out with us tonight?”

You hadn’t realized they were going out at all. “No,” you answered. “I was actually already asleep.”

“Oh, right, sorry.”

“It’s fine.”

After he left, you closed the door behind him. You turned off the lights and climbed into bed. Fully awake at this point, you unlocked your phone, knowing you’d be unable to fall back asleep.

You startled at a knock on your door.

“Come in?” It was a question more than an invitation. You weren’t expecting another disturbance.

The door slid open. You could see a silhouette against the light coming in from the hall, but you couldn’t suss out who it was.

“Are you alright?” The voice belonged to Vladislav.

“You can turn on the light; I can’t see you.”

The light flicked on, and you blinked rapidly as your vision adjusted. Once the light stopped hurting your eyes, you were able to focus on Vladislav standing largely in the hall, more peering into the room than standing in it.

“Are you alright?” he repeated.

“I’m fine.” That was true, of course, but you were nonetheless glad that they decided to check on you.

“Nick knew that you’re off limits. He wasn’t going to eat you.”

You wondered how long they’ve been in contact with Nick for him to already have known that.

“I still wear the pendant,” you told him, referring to the cross that had made him retch. 

“Good.” His response was firmer than you would have expected, given the subject.

You simply nodded and changed the subject. “He said you guys were going out tonight?”

“Yes. I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“I’m fine. Thanks.”

“Sorry for waking you earlier.”

“Not your fault.”

“I’m going to go. We’re bringing Petyr a victim, but we’ll remind him to keep quiet.”

“Thank you.”

“Good night, Y/N.”


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all. I bumped up the rating. Not specifically because of this chapter, though it is borderline, but because I’ve decided I will be including more nsfw scenes in the future. 
> 
> Thanks for reading, and enjoy!

You studied the playing cards in your hand before looking up at your opponent. Trying to read him was useless; you had no idea what he was thinking. He was unreadable. You quickly lowered your gaze as his eyes met yours.

“Any sevens?”

You jumped in your seat as you were once again answered with a screeching hiss. You put a hand against your chest as if to still your racing heart.

“Just say ‘go fish,’ Petyr, you’re going to give me a heart attack!”

You drew a card, only to immediately hand it over when he asked in his cold, rasping voice if you had any nines.

“Any twos?”

“Go fish.”

You sighed as you picked up another card.

“Any sevens?” Petyr rasped.

“Petyr!” You dropped the cards to bury your head in your hands and exclaim in exasperation. “Petyr,” you explained, “if you have a seven now, then you had one when I asked.”

He stared at you intently, and somewhat frighteningly, though you thought you saw the corner of his mouth twitch.

“Okay,” you announced, gathering up the cards. “That’s enough go fish tutorial for one evening. Anyway, I’m pretty sure Viago left a chicken or something in your room.”

Petyr shuffled off, back to his basement. You still spent relatively little time with Petyr as compared to your other flatmates. He did keep mostly to himself, and the one time you’d ventured down to his room in order to fetch him for something, you’d decided right then and there not to go back. His basement was filthy, covered in dust, debris, blood, and worst of all, dismembered skeletal remains. It was not an experience you wished to relive.

You dumped the deck of cards into a random drawer before exiting the kitchen and making your way to the communal bathroom. You had avoided that bathroom when you’d first moved in, partly because you had your own private en suite upstairs, and partly because you didn’t relish the idea of sharing a bathroom with four men. But, now you knew they weren’t men, not human men, at least, and didn’t use the bathroom. So, you’d been using it more or less freely. There were a few times it had been used to eat someone, but they were good about warning you, and you had yet to stumble into a bloodied room before Jackie had a chance to clean it up.

Poor Jackie…

Upon you reaching the bathroom, you pulled open the door. It was always kept shut, as it opened outwards into the hallway rather that inwards. You halted before entering, though, hand still on the doorknob, as the room was occupied.

Standing in the clawfoot bathtub was a tall, blond woman, probably the most beautiful woman you’d ever seen in real life, barely dressed, draped in sheer, red fabric. She was gently writhing where she stood, rubbing her body, and softly moaning. She didn’t seem to notice you standing in the doorway.

Suddenly, a face appeared directly in front of yours, only centimeters away, hissing violently. You let out a startled shriek at the instantaneous intrusion of your personal space, leaping back and slamming the door shut once again. 

Your fight or flight response now abruptly over with, your brain was able to register what you had seen. Vladislav had dropped from the ceiling, his upside down face stopping directly in front of your right side up one, and hissed you out of the room.

Your heart was still pounding from the burst of adrenaline when the door flew open once again, nearly hitting you as it did so, to reveal Vladislav, still tying the sash of his red robe. His dark hair was fairly mussed, possibly from having just been upside down.

“I didn’t realize that was you,” he said calmly, almost too calmly given how quickly he had re-robed and opened the door. “Did you need something?”

You hesitated. You were a bit embarrassed of admitting your basic biological needs to someone who didn’t share them. Deciding to lie, you told him, “I just needed to wash my hands. Sorry. I didn’t realize anyone was in there. I’ll just go use my bathroom. I didn’t mean to interrupt.” At the word ‘interrupt,’ you quickly glanced down at his barely dressed body and back up to his face. If he noticed, he didn’t say anything.

“Don’t worry about it. You can use the sink; she left.”

“She left?” you asked in surprise. “How did she leave?” The bathroom only had the one door, and was an interior room with no windows. You looked behind him to find that the woman was no longer standing in the tub, nor was she anywhere in your line of sight.

“She just left.” You must have looked as confused as you felt, because Vladislav then clarified, “She’s a succubus.”

A succubus?

“An actual succubus?” you asked. “Like a demon woman? A demon you can summon for…?” You let your sentence trail off rather than say aloud what you were pretty certain a succubus was.

“Yes,” he answered simply, his arms crossing in front of him.

“Oh.” You walked past him and made your way to the sink, deciding to keep up the charade by washing your hands and using your own bathroom upstairs later. “I didn’t realize succubi were real.” It was technically the truth, as they hadn’t been mentioned in your werewolves and witches discussion, and it moved the conversation in a different, less personal direction than it seemed like it was heading before.

“Oh, yeah. Succubi, incubi, demons in general.” 

When he spoke, you instinctively looked up to find him in the mirror behind you, and felt a brief, uncanny, sinking dread in the pit of your belly when you obviously couldn’t see him. You recovered quickly though, and dried your hands on the dingy hanging towel before turning to face him.

“Well, sorry, again for, uh… that,” you finished lamely.

“It’s fine. I can summon another one.” He said it so nonchalantly, like he was talking about his laundry schedule rather than his plans to spend the evening with a literal sex demon.

You felt your face heat.

Vladislav excused himself and made his way up the stairs, presumably to summon another succubus from the privacy of his own bedroom, and you stayed in the bathroom, waiting a fair amount of time before heading up to your own room.

You hadn’t really considered that your flatmates were sexual beings. Who would they have been sleeping with anyway? You hadn’t know that succubi existed, and you hadn’t ever seen any female vampires hanging around the house. You were all but certain they weren’t sleeping with each other. Not that you’d given it much thought before now, though. If you had, you probably would have come to the conclusion that it would be ridiculous for all of them to remain celibate for hundreds of years. You sure as hell couldn’t imagine going that long without sex. Of course they had sex.

You’d seen them with human women when you went out clubbing with them, and once Vladislav had a brought a woman home for what you had thought at the time was a one night stand. But, all of that was before you knew they were vampires. After that revelation, you’d dismissed those women you’d seen with them as mere victims, which they probably were. There’s no way they slept with the people they killed.

And when Viago had come to an incorrect and inappropriate conclusion about what you and Vladislav were up to the night you got your cross pendant, supposedly based on Vladislav’s history with women, that couldn’t have meant human women... right? Well, you were a human woman, and Viago had still misunderstood the situation. You could almost physically feel your mind grappling with its own confusion. How would that even work? It’s not like they could consider their human victims as people or as individuals in the same way they would another vampire they were sleeping with, not without an astounding degree of cognitive dissonance, anyway. Though, it’s not like you had to care about someone in any way in order to have sex. That was the whole premise behind one night stands. You supposed it might be possible for a vampire to fuck someone just for the sake of fucking, then kill and eat them. After all, if the line isn’t drawn at murder, why would it be drawn at meaningless sex? If you had to get murdered, having decent sex beforehand would likely be better than not.

You pushed the topic from your mind as you headed upstairs. You really shouldn’t fixate on your flatmates’ sex lives.

~

The flat you shared with Dawn was a typical flat in just about every way, including that the walls were paper thin. That fact, and the fact that your bedrooms shared a wall in common, meant that you could plainly hear the noises coming from her room right now.

Dawn had told you she was bringing a Tinder date home, warning you well in advance. She’d dropped hints suggesting she’d rather you leave and give them run of the flat, but the sad fact was that you had nowhere else to go. She tried to get you to sign up for Tinder, and maybe find a date of your own for the evening, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. You’d used Tinder before. It wasn’t as if you had any philosophical objections to dating apps. But it felt different this time, like you were doing something wrong. 

So, you were holed up in your room, tucked into your bed with a bowl of popcorn and a water bottle, binging some forgettable show on Netflix while your flatmate and only friend was getting audibly railed only one paper thin wall away.

It was fine, honestly, not a big deal. Thin walls were thin walls. This was just how having flatmates was. Despite the fact that you didn’t know who this guy was, it was hardly the first time you’d had to listen to Dawn have sex. She’d dated her ex, Zach, for a long time, and he’d spent many nights at your apartment. 

You plugged your earbuds into your laptop and turned up the volume, drowning out the noise. Problem solved.

Just like with Tinder, though, this felt different from before. When the noises started up, you hadn’t immediately put your earbuds in to block it out. Instead, you’d listened for a bit. Not with any perverted or voyeuristic intentions, though. The gasps, moans, and exclamations of two people having sex wasn’t an unfamiliar sound. You’d had flatmates for as long as you’d been an adult, and you’d been involved in such noisemaking yourself. No, it wasn’t unfamiliar. It was distant.

Sex seemed like something a lifetime away from you. Intangible and unreachable, almost mythic. You missed having sex. It was more than just feeling lustful, though. It wasn’t really a desire to get off; it was more so a desire for sex, itself. You had been feeling so alone. You craved the intimacy of it all. Bodies moving with each other, against each other, inside of each other. Sharing breath and sweat and fluid with another person. Feeling a pair of lips, their bruising pressure against your own. The pressing weight of a body on top of yours, pinning you down. The noises you could elicit from them, and the involuntary sounds they’d pull from you.

You weren’t even sure that the last time you remember having sex was the last time you had sex. It felt like a cosmic betrayal, that the universe or your own mind or whatever it was could have taken such memories, experiences, from you.

In fact, you were almost certain that it had.

If Dawn was correct, and you had, in fact, been in a romantic relationship for the better part of a year, then you’d be shocked if you hadn’t slept with him. Vlad. What had it been like? Had you been compatible? Was it any good?

Not for the first time, you found yourself wondering what he had looked like. But instead of contemplating his potential height, hair, eyes, or smile, you considered for the first time details like his hands. Were they big? With fingers that were long or fingers that were broad? How had his hands felt tangled in you hair, pressed against your hips, grasping at your breasts? Were his lips full or were they thin? What did they look like as he called out your name? How did they feel pressed against your own, pressed against your neck, moving against you as you bucked against them?

How could you not know these things?

You felt hot tears forming in the corners of your eyes, and a hard lump in your throat at the sheer injustice of your lost memories, and the utter helplessness you felt at getting them back.


	13. Chapter 13

You looked up from your novel when you heard a series of knocks on the door. Viago and Deacon, also having heard it, entered the lounge, both looking a bit more than mildly concerned.

“Are you expecting someone?” Viago asked you in a hushed voice. 

You silently shook your head, their air of discretion rubbing off on you.

“Vladislav!” Deacon called quietly up the stairs. 

Vladislav came running down, somehow managing not make a sound on the ancient, usually creaking steps. “Who’s here?”

The three moved stealthily towards the door, and you had to bite back a laugh. Your flatmates had explained the risks present to vampires, of course, but you could hardly imagine a vampire hunter politely knocking on the front door at the decent hour of 7:03 p.m. 

The door was gingerly cracked open for a moment, then thrown widely open to a chorus of “hellos” and “it’s just Nick!” From your spot on Viago’s antique couch, you couldn’t see Nick, but you could hear their conversation.

“What are you doing here?” Deacon asked. His harsh tone reminded you of how he treated you when you’d first moved in, and how he treated everyone when he was in a sour mood.

“You brought a friend!” Viago cheerily observed.

“Yeah, this is my good friend, Stu.”

Nick and the good friend in question entered the lounge, while your flatmates invaded his personal space and asked inappropriate questions about his sexual history. You considered going upstairs before things got violent, but then Nick gave you a small wave before gathering up your flatmates and ushering them into the hall.

“Y/N, Stu. Stu, Y/N.” And with that brief introduction, the four vampires were gone and you were left alone with the newcomer.

You rose from your seated position to shake his hand. It was unusually warm and made it very clear that this man was human. You wondered if ‘good friend’ actually meant ‘good friend’ or was a euphemism for ‘dinner.’ As you stood in awkward silence with the potential victim, you were able to catch snippets of the conversation between the vampires in the hallway.

Nick asked something about your fourth flatmate. “…Petyr… coffin?” 

Viago said something about cake. You eyed the container Nick’s friend held.

“…eat him!” Deacon finished whatever that whole sentence had been rather enthusiastically.

Nick answered with a short rant you couldn’t quite make out. “…my mate… Stu…hang out… can’t…like Y/N!...pretend…cake…” You couldn’t be entirely sure, but it seemed that Stu actually was a friend, one who probably didn’t realize Nick was no longer human, and was not to be eaten.

You shot him a glance and realized he was also straining to listen to the vampires’ hushed conversation. Not wanting him to hear anything too damning, you decided to get him out of earshot of your flatmates and Nick.

“Stu, why don’t we go into the kitchen and get some wine for everyone?”

He nodded and followed you silently into the other room, throwing one last questioning glance over his shoulder towards the hallway.

You gave a silent thanks to the universe that there were no bloody dishes in the sink as you pulled six wine glasses from the cabinet. “Is chianti okay?”

“Sure.” You were glad he said yes. You shouldn’t have even asked. The only other wine you had was a white, and that definitely wouldn’t work. You poured two glasses of the dark red wine, taking a sip of yours and handing the other to Stu.

“So, how do you know Nick?”

He blushed slightly, his face becoming even redder than it already was. “I used to date his sister.”

“Oh.” Unsure of what to say to that, you took another sip of wine.

“How do you know Nick?”

“Oh, uh…” You weren’t what Nick had told Stu, and you didn’t want to poke holes in whatever stories Nick may have spun him. You decided to keep to the truth, albeit simplified. “Nick ended up befriending my flatmates. I have a room here.”

“Oh. Nice.” Stu gestured to the container he’d brought with him. “Do you have any plates? I brought cake for everyone.”

“Yum!” You had no idea how the vampires were going to deal with cake, but it left more for you, and you could certainly think of worse things. “They’re in the cabinet up there,” you told him, gesturing to the appropriate cabinet.

While Stu had his back turned to you, you took the decanter of blood from the fridge and poured it into the remaining four glasses. Vladislav entered the kitchen then, and you silently passed him the decanter, looking pointedly at the fridge, trusting him to put it back quickly. You grabbed the bottle of chianti, topping off your and Stu’s glasses just as he turned back around with the plates. You felt inordinately proud of how sneaky you had been. Maybe your flatmates were rubbing off on you?

“Stu, if you take the cake and plates, Vladislav can fetch the flatware.” As the two did as you directed, you raised your voice and called into the lounge, “Deacon! Viago! Come in here and help me carry the drinks!”

While Stu and Vladislav left, Deacon and Viago entered, both looking warily at the cake as it passed. 

“How are we supposed to pretend to eat cake?” Deacon grumbled.

You shrugged, taking another sip of wine. “I like cake. Viago don’t drink that!”

Viago stood frozen beside the table, Stu’s wine glass almost up to his lips. He looked at you questioningly. 

“That’s Stu’s chianti. Give me that. The rest of these are all blood.” 

Viago grimaced at the glass as he handed it to you. 

“It’s one night,” you told him. “It’ll be fine. Besides, how late can he stay, anyway? We humans go to bed at night.”

“I still think we should kill him,” Deacon huffed.

You rolled your eyes. “Well Nick is your friend, so you can’t go around killing his friends.”

“Nick is not my friend!”

You ignored him, heading out into the lounge and trusting that your pouting flatmates would follow you.

Stu already had the cake sliced and served onto six plates. You handed him his wine and took two slices of cake, handing one each to Deacon and Viago to ensure that they took them. Vladislav had already taken his and was glaring at it as though it personally offended him. Perhaps it did. The lounge didn’t have much seating, so you sat cross-legged on the floor beside the coffee table, looking up at the rest of the group.

Once everyone was situated, the silence was palpable. You could sense Stu’s discomfort. Taking yet another sip from your glass, you could feel a pleasant buzz beginning to form. At least one person wasn’t uncomfortable.

“This is really good cake,” Nick lied. You looked at his plate so see that a bit of cake was in fact missing from his slice. What had he done with it?

“It is really delicious,” you added honestly. It was a moist chocolate cake with a sugary vanilla icing- a classic for good reason.

“Thank you,” he said mutedly. He was a fairly quiet person, it seemed.

“So, Stu, what do you do for a living?” you asked.

“I work in IT. GIS, specifically.” His tone lightened a bit. He clearly enjoyed talking about his work, so you decided to follow up. It was looking like you may have to carry the evening’s conversation on by yourself.

“GIS?”

“Yeah, that’s geographic information science. We take business’ requirements, and we analyze those requirements, and then with GIS we make a sort of layered map, depending on what each particular business needs.”

You nodded, though you were having trouble keeping up. “Is that sort of like Google Maps?”

He nodded hesitantly, which you took immediately to mean you were off the mark with that analogy. “Sort of. But there’s more layers of information. Like a map of Wellington could feature a layer of historic houses, a layer of nightclubs, a layer of steep hills, or anything else considered noteworthy.”

“Oh.” Though the example was helpful, Stu was really playing a whole different game with his IT knowledge. This GIS stuff was not your area of expertise. “That’s really impressive.” You weren’t sure if it was or not, but it sounded impressive to you.

“Wait, go back. IT?” Vladislav was looking quizzically at you, Nick, and Stu.

Stu faltered. “Oh, uh, that’s information technology. Computer sciences, basically.”

“Computer?”

You shot Vladislav a look somewhere between disbelief and horror. He offered only a shrug in return.

“I’ve seen one of these computers!” Deacon interjected. “It is like a television screen with a typewriter in front of it.”

You let out an involuntary noise of shock at that remark. You might not have anywhere near Stu’s level of understanding in this area, but you could scarcely believe that this conversation could possibly be happening in this century. You now felt much better about your Google Maps remark. Had they really never used a computer? Any of them?

Now that you thought about it, you’d never seen them use a desktop, laptop, tablet, or even a smart phone. Not once. Your work had provided you with a mobile hotspot when you started working remotely, so you never bothered to get onto their wifi. Did they have wifi? You were starting to think the answer must be no. Even if they didn’t use computers, did they even have mobile phones? Even just a basic flip phone? The only technology you’d actually noticed in the house was a TV, not even a flatscreen one at that, a record player, and a landline phone.

Holy crap.

Stu looked questioningly at Nick. He was probably thinking something along the lines of ‘Where the hell did you meet these lunatics and in which century?’ That’s certainly what you were asking yourself right now.

“They’re Eastern European,” Nick explained.

Though that explanation was useless and nonsensical, Stu didn’t say anything about it, explaining to your flatmates, “That’s what a computer looks like, yeah. But it’s more like a complicated calculator.”

He was really going to sit here and explain computers to your flatmates. God bless this guy.

“A calculator?” Viago asked, his brow furrowed. You weren’t sure what upset him more, the complicated nature of computers or the chocolate cake.

“Like a giant abacus,” Deacon suggested.

“Yeah, kind of like an abacus,” Stu agreed, “but it can do much more complex calculations and functions, at a much higher speed.”

From this one conversation, you were willing to make the call that Stu was the nicest, most patient man that had ever lived.

“Guys,” you addressed your flatmates, “come here and look at my phone.” 

You pulled the phone from your pocket as the three gathered around you. You unlocked it with your fingerprint to a series of impressed murmurs from your friends.

“That’s not a phone,” Viago said, though he didn’t sound entirely confident.

“Of course it is. It makes phone calls. It just does other stuff, too. It sends text messages and takes pictures and connects to the internet.”

“Internet?”

“Yeah. Look.” You opened the web browser on your phone, and thought for a minute on what to Google. Looking briefly around the room, you typed ‘chianti’ into the search bar, and displayed the results to your flatmates.

Reading aloud from the small screen, Vladislav said, “‘A chianti wine is any wine produced in the Chianti region of central Tuscany. It was historically associated with a squat bottle enclosed in a straw basket called a…’ It just stops in the middle of the sentence!”

“Yeah, well, it’s just a preview. These are the search results. If you click one,” you tapped it to open the Wikipedia page, “it displays the full result.”

“That’s pretty cool,” Vladislav said, eyes glued to the phone.

“Stu,” Deacon called over your head, “can we get internet computer technology in the house?”

“Uh, yeah, I’m sure you could. I could probably help you guys with that if you wanted.”

“Yes! When are you free?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know Stu says Geographic Information Systems, but my gf does GIS and insists that while both are correct, the ‘more correct‘ term is Geographic Information Science. And she knows more than me, so ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


	14. Chapter 14

Stu was every bit as good as his word. He’d come over one evening and installed a wifi router and desktop computer. He also set up your flatmates’ new mobile phones. In those acts alone he’d gone above and beyond. He didn’t stop there, though. Stu had stayed for hours, late into the night, to teach them how the technology worked. And throughout it all, he had been bombarded with the dumbest questions and a great level of incompetence. At one point, Viago and Deacon had even suggested Googling Viago’s one hundred year old lost scarf. But now, the vampires all had their own social media accounts and basic mastery over texting, Google, TradeMe, the works.

You were expecting to hear of Stu’s upcoming canonization any day now.

The novelty of it all hadn’t yet worn off of your flatmates, so you’d been keeping your phone on silent. Otherwise, it would be pinging all day with notifications from them. Looking at your phone now, you found a Words With Friends request from Viago, three texts from Deacon, and one from Vladislav. 

It had been about five minutes since you last looked at your phone.

Deacon’s texts were all asking whether or not you were going out with them tonight. Nick had organized a night on the town that included Stu, and you had been invited along as well. As Stu still didn’t know that Nick, or anyone for that matter, was a vampire, the night would solely be about having fun. No victims. Thankfully.

You texted Deacon back that you were planning on going. He was right downstairs. It would probably be easier just to shout your answer. But, they still found the phones new and exciting, and so you were willing to indulge them a bit.

“Y/N!”

Speaking of shouts…

You found your flatmates gathered in the lounge, looking at pictures of themselves on their smartphones, analyzing their own outfits.

Upon seeing you, Viago smiled widely. “Y/N, we need a human opinion on our clothes for tonight.”

You looked each of them up and down, disappointed but not surprised by what you saw. Each was dressed like an absolute clown, which wasn’t all that unusual for their going out clothes, but you still couldn’t understand. It wasn’t as though they were ever the epitome of fashion forward, but their day to day clothes weren’t nearly as bad as the clusterfuck outfits they wore out on the town. 

Vladislav actually dressed fairly attractively on the day to day. It was odd sometimes, but it always worked. He usually wore a low cut black top that exposed his chest, tight black pants, and black leather boots. Instead of that smart look, he currently wore cream pants with a red athletic stripe down the side, a ruffled red shirt with his chest exposed, of course, and a brown fur vest. He completed the monstrous ensemble with a top hat.

Usually Viago usually dressed like he stepped out the wrong century. Dated, but not inherently horrible. He currently wore one of his 19th century ruffled tops and coordinating vests, but now with a pair of camouflage joggers. 

Deacon was irredeemable, and always dressed like an idiot. At least he was consistent.

The last time you had helped them put together somewhat wearable outfits, it had taken over an hour. You really didn’t want to deal with that right now. You were supposed to leave in a half hour to meet Nick and Stu, and you still had to change. Tonight was just about having a good time; they didn’t need to attract victims. They didn’t even have to worry about getting into clubs. Apparently, Nick knew the bouncer at Boogie Wonderland. It really didn’t matter how stupid they looked.

“Looks good, guys.”

“I told you,” Deacon snapped at Vladislav.

“Is that what you’re wearing?” Viago asked, a barely hidden grimace on his face, as if he had any room to judge.

You’d already put on your makeup and fixed your hair; you only had to get dressed. You looked down at your body, currently clad in paint covered sweatpants and a worn hoodie. “Uh, no?”

“Oh, good. You should probably go change. It’s almost time to go.”

As if they weren’t the ones who called you downstairs…

“Good idea.”

You ran back upstairs, shedding your comfortable clothes and replacing it with your favorite black dress. You’d worn it the last time you went out with the guys, but hopefully they wouldn’t remember. You had other club-worthy clothes, but this dress was on another level. Why mess with a good thing?

~

You adjusted your favorite little black dress in the mirror, not bothering to make sure your cross necklace was still in place beneath it; you never took it off anymore. 

The bathroom door opened, letting in the noise of the thumping bass from the club.

“Y/N? You in here?”

“I’m here, Dawn.”

“You okay? You’ve been in here a while.”

“I’m okay. The music was a bit loud. Just needed a second.” A partial truth. The music didn’t bother you, but you did need a breather, a little alone time.

“Do you want to leave?”

“No,” you walked towards her and the exit. “Let’s go back out.”

As you walked out together, the song changed, and Dawn excitedly grabbed your hand and pulled you towards the dance floor. 

“I love this song!” she shouted over the pulsing music.

Dawn worked on yanking you out onto the dance floor, pulling you through the throngs of bodies. You stopped in your tracks, though, halting Dawn from where her hand still held yours, when you recognized a face in the crowd.

“Y/N?”

“That’s him,” you told her, not looking away from his face. “That’s the man I saw at Boogie Wonderland that night.”

He looked just the same, even wearing the same jacket, though this time with a pair of horribly mismatched pants. You pointed him out to Dawn.

“What do I do?” you asked. Clearly he hadn’t wanted to talk to you.

“I’ll talk to him,” she offered. “I’ll see what I can find out. Go! Don’t let him notice you!”

Dawn pushed you towards the bar, and made her way deeper into the crowd, towards the man you may have known. Settling onto a stool, you watched as Dawn approached the man. She cozied up to him, danced a little too provocatively, placed a hand on his arm. He seemed startled, at first, by her flirtatious attention, before visibly warming up to it.

“Anything for you?”

You jumped at the question, but turned to answer the bartender. “No thanks, I’m waiting on a friend.” You gestured vaguely at the crowd. 

You returned your gaze to the packed dance floor, looking for the familiar faces of Dawn and the man. You scoured the crowd for a good minute or so, before realizing that they weren’t there. Where had they gone? Had he fled from her too?

You all but jumped from the barstool, heading out the front door to see if you could still find them. You were looking up the street, trying to spot either of them in the foot traffic, when Dawn literally bumped into you from the side.

“Y/N?” she asked as she caught her balance. “What are you doing out here?”

“Me? I was looking for you. What happened?”

“Nothing happened. I thought you were still in the bathroom, so I was coming to find you. I think I spaced out, though, and sort of auto-piloted out here instead.”

“The bathroom? No. I was at bar, while you were talking to that guy. What did you find out?”

“Find out? About what? What guy?”

Realization crashed over like an icy bucket of water.

“What’s the last thing you remember?”

“Getting up to look for you in the bathroom.”

“And before that?” You could hear clearly the urgency in your own voice.

“I was just sitting at the bar waiting for you. You said you were going to the bathroom, and you didn’t come back for almost twenty minutes.”

You looked up and down the street again, looking anew for the man.

“Y/N? What happened? What’s wrong?”

~

It seemed that your flatmates had enjoyed Boogie Wonderland even more than they had Red Square. Viago went on and on about their light up dance floor, and Vladislav didn’t even leave said dance floor once. Deacon even managed to have a good time, and once he’d stopped pouting and complaining about Nick, he’d dragged you onto the dance floor and kept you occupied until you physically needed a break. You’d even gotten to know Stu a little better, bonding over the subpar snacks served at the bar. You’d had more fun than you expected, and were throughly worn out as you walked back towards the bus stop as a group.

You were laughing at a joke Nick had told when Viago interrupted the conversation. “Do you smell that?”

You sniffed the air. It didn’t smell great, of course, but it just smelled like city air. You couldn’t discern anything out of the ordinary.

“Werewolves,” Deacon hissed.

Nick glanced worriedly at Stu.

“Don’t start anything. Just keep walking,” Vladislav advised the group.

There was a group of men walking towards you, a few more in number than your group, but similar in age. Where they the werewolves? There was no one else around.

As you passed each other, Deacon let out a, “Look out, guys. Don’t catch fleas.”

“Deacon!” Viago scolded.

The other group stopped while Vladislav reiterated, “Keep walking.” Both groups ignored him, instead turning to face one another.

“We heard that!” one of the other group called back.

“Yeah, mate, we’ve got sensitive hearing,” another added.

“Oh, have you?” Deacon taunted.

“Yeah!”

“Why don’t you go smell your own crotches?”

“We don’t smell our own crotches; we smell each other crotches, and it’s a form of greeting.”

You wrinkled your nose. Viago did the same. You saw Stu looking around questioningly. You could hardly blame him.

“Maybe we should just go, guys,” you offered.

“Yeah,” one of the werewolves said. “Why don’t you ladies just go home?”

Deacon stiffened. “Who are you calling a lady?” He stepped closer to the opposite group, into one of their personal space, and was immediately, forcefully shoved back. Deacon hissed.

Viago removed one of his gloves, while one of the werewolves made a disparaging remark about it. That same werewolf was then promptly and, somehow, politely slapped across the face with the glove.

“Hey, what the fuck!”

“Don’t swear!” another from his group chastised. “We’re gonna lose it!”

The situation escalated. Deacon started shouting obscenities as a few werewolves snarled and were held back by their friends. A few of their eyes reflected the moonlight in a wholly inhuman way. Nick stepped in front of Stu, and Vladislav shouted as he grabbed your arm, yanking you behind him. You stepped aside to look at the werewolves, but were quickly pushed back.

“Stay back there!” he snapped at you.

You poked your head around his body to see, but otherwise stayed put. 

“Calm down! It’s not a full moon,” the werewolf who had last spoken addressed the group as they collectively calmed, taking deep breaths and talking each other down. “Thanks a lot guys,” he said to your group. “We didn’t want this to happen.”

A few of their group howled loudly as they left. Viago, Vladislav, and Deacon hissed at their retreating forms.

“Are you okay, Stu?” Stu didn’t seem to hear Viago, still staring at the werewolves, growing smaller in the distance.

“Hey, man, it’s cool.” Nick slapped him on the shoulder and led him away, asking Viago, “Were those really werewolves?”

You still stood in the same spot, looking after the werewolves you could no longer see, more intrigued than frightened. Vladislav stood with you as the other four continued on.

“Y/N?” he asked. “Are you alright?”

You nodded, finally tearing your eyes from were the werewolves had been, and looking up at Vladislav. You could see the concern written plainly on his face.

“I’m fine. It’s just wild. Real life werewolves… crazy.”

He sighed in relief. “I thought you were frightened.”

You shrugged. “Maybe a little, when things were getting pretty heated. But it all happened so fast, there wasn’t really time to be scared.”

He simply nodded. “Good.”

“Thank you, though, for looking out for me,” you told him. “For protecting me.”

He shrugged off your thanks. “I didn’t really think about it. Humans can’t protect themselves from a werewolf the way a vampire can. You could have been in danger.”

“Well, thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”


	15. Chapter 15

You sat in the lounge, alone, scrolling through your phone, not knowing where the rest of your flatmates were. They were in the house, yeah, but did they really spend so much time in their rooms? Deacon certainly couldn’t, at least. You’d found out that the small hall closet you had thought was his room, was in fact his room.

It was better not to delve into the question of were they were and what they what doing. You were pretty sure you’d heard unfamiliar voices in the house, earlier.

Rapid footsteps thundering down the stairs pulled you from your thoughts. A woman half ran, half fell down the stairs into the lounge. She was only partially dressed, wearing just her jeans and a bra. She looked around frantically, eyes darting back and forth between you and the door. Apparently settling on the door, she ran towards it, choosing to ignore you in favor of escape.

She reached the door but couldn’t open it, struggling with the locks in her panic. You watched from the couch, frozen just as you had been with Nick. How did this keep happening? The loud footfalls of someone upstairs, running down the hall, brought your gaze to the stairs in anticipation, just as it did the woman’s. She abandoned the door, running to you, grabbing your hand before you could react.

“Please, please, don’t let him kill me! He’s going to kill me! You have to get me out of here!”

The fear and desperation in her voice tugged at your gut. You stared in shock at her wide, pleading eyes.

As Vladislav literally flew down the stairs, a sob escaped the woman’s throat, and she squeezed your hand with a surprising amount of strength. Her anxiety was contagious, and you found yourself growing irrationally fearful as he approached.

Unlike the woman, Vladislav was fully dressed. As he landed on the floor, he smiled gently at her, ignoring you entirely. 

“Are you okay? You left in a rush.” His soft smile was disarming, small enough to hide his fangs, but show off the gap between his front teeth. His voice sounded different than usual. Softer, calmer, but somehow more commanding.

The woman’s grip on your hand loosened. You held on tighter in response. She blinked and looked around, less in panic now, and more in confusion. “I don’t… I want to go home.” You couldn’t tell if she was talking to you, to Vladislav, or to herself.

Vladislav chuckled, taking her available hand in his. “No, you don’t.” His voice still held the same melodic cadence. It was almost intoxicating. “You want to stay. You want me, and you want to come back up to my room.” She was nodding as he spoke.

“Let’s go back upstairs,” she breathed. All traces of fear had left her body. She stood tall, leaning slightly towards him, thrusting her almost exposed chest in his direction.

She was being hypnotized, you realized, and it was working all too well. The change in her demeanor was absolute. What could that feel like? Did she know she was being manipulated? 

She started walking towards the stairs, but you gripped her hand tightly, not wanting her to die. She kept walking, though, yanking her hand from yours as she went. You stared after her as she traipsed up the stairs, to meet her fate, looking back to Vladislav, who held a finger up to signal he’d be a moment behind. As she rounded the corner and disappeared from your line of sight, you wondered, not for the first time, if it hurt. Being killed by a vampire. You’d never asked. You hoped not, for her sake. Who knows. Maybe in her hypnotized state, she’d even enjoy it.

That thought gave you a strong emotion, though you couldn’t quite pinpoint what it was.

“Sorry about that. She was hypnotized, but it lapsed and she realized what was happening,” Vladislav apologized.

“It’s fine,” you said, more out of habit than of it being the truth. “Does hypnosis not always work?”

“Not always.”

“Does she know she’s being hypnotized?” 

You weren’t sure why you were asking. You were curious, of course, and you actually wanted to know, but you’d been curious about it before and not said anything. It felt as though you were only asking in order to delay him from going upstairs, from returning to the woman. It was pointless, anyway. You couldn’t delay him forever.

Vladislav shook his head. “No, she doesn’t know. Or, if she does, she doesn’t remember afterwards. Apparently, it’s like spacing out, and then you think whatever ideas were planted in your head were your own.”

“Oh.”

He was fighting back a smile, looking very much like a young boy who’d gotten away with placing a ‘kick me’ sign on the teacher’s back.

“What?” you asked, suspiciously.

“I’ve hypnotized you before,” he admitted, not nearly as sheepish as he ought to be.

You sat straight up on the couch. “What! When? Why?”

Vladislav held his hands up in surrender. “It was early! The first time we met. It’s not like I knew you, yet.”

“What for?” You pursed your lips, unsure of whether or not you should be angry. 

“You were asking all sorts of questions about Petyr. I convinced you that you weren’t interested in meeting him.”

You pensively chewed the inside of your lip. You supposed that was fair enough. If you had insisted on meeting Petyr, and that soon, it could have led to a number of problems, both for you and for your flatmates. Still, it made you uncomfortable to be so manipulated, out of control even of your own thoughts. “Okay,” you ceded. “Well, don’t do it again.”

He looked deeply into your eyes, staring for just a moment too long, saying, “Never again.”

You broke off eye contact. It was beginning to feel too intimate. “Thank you.”

“I should probably get back up there,” he told you, gesturing to the staircase.

“Vladislav?”

When you didn’t continue, he prompted you. “Yes?”

“I-“ You stopped yourself. What could you say? ‘Don’t do it?’ ‘Let her go?’ You couldn’t ask that of him. He had to eat. He had to kill her. It was absolutely not your place to stop him, and even if it was, how could you?

“What is it?”

“Nothing. Never mind.”

You watched him as he left, eyes still glued to the stairs long after he’d left them.

You eventually wondered what was going on. She had been topless. Had he gone upstairs and immediately killed her? Or were they doing something else? Was she still alive? The house was big, and with the notable exception of Nick, they usually killed their victims quietly. You weren’t even sure how often it happened.

At any point the sun was down, there was a chance you were under the same roof where a murder was taking place.

You picked up your cell phone and resumed scrolling.

~

You hadn’t told Dawn what had happened, so she’d put the incident entirely behind her. You hadn’t ruled out telling her at some point, but you weren’t even sure exactly what had happened. A coincidence seemed highly unlikely, though. You’d recognized the man. Missed him, even. You must have known him. He was somebody from your missing year, somebody important. And after talking to him, Dawn had lost all memories of the conversation. 

Just like you had lost all memories of the past year.

That had to mean something.

But what?

Maybe your memory loss wasn’t natural. Maybe it wasn’t related to trauma or repression. Maybe it was forced on you. Maybe the man had caused it.

You didn’t know how that could be possible. The only thing you could think of was drugs. But what kind of drug could make you forget your memories? And how could it have made you lose a whole year, and Dawn only a half hour?

Still, something had made Dawn forget her memories in a way very similar to how you had lost yours. That man must have something to do with it. But how?

You sighed in frustration. You were stuck in a loop.

You wondered how long it would take you to knock on every door in Wellington. He must be behind one of them. It was a stupid idea. Even if you somehow, magically, happened to find him, what’s stopping him from erasing your memories again?

Not a single thing, probably.

~

You laid in your bed, staring into the dark, unable to fall asleep. Your flatmates wouldn’t kill you. You knew that. They were your friends. And even if they weren’t, they needed another flatmate to pay the bills, and you did that. They weren’t going to eat you.

You’d already been hypnotized, though, and you had no memory of it happening. They could hypnotize you at any time, and you’d have no idea. They could be hypnotizing you every day, and you’d have no idea.

They weren’t, of course. Why would they? Vladislav had just done it the one time, and he had promised you he wouldn’t do it again. You had no reason to doubt him.

You wondered what it felt like; you couldn’t recall. Had you known it was happening in the moment only to forget after the fact? Had you felt manipulated? Out of control? Or did you not know? Did it feel as though the ideas were your own?

It couldn’t have been that bad, you supposed. Though you didn’t love the idea of feeling out of control of your own mind, being hypnotized really hadn’t affected you. It certainly didn’t seem to bother the woman who was probably dead by now in Vladislav’s bedroom.

Did he use her? He must have. It was one thing to eat her; he had to eat her. 

‘You want me.’

That’s what he had said to her. That’s what he made her think. She was cowering in fear at the sight of him, but after three words, she climbed up the stairs to his bedroom, wanting to give herself to him.

Three words.

He could do that to you. 

He wouldn’t. He would never. It would be hideously cruel. Evil. He was your friend. He wouldn’t.

He could.

You’d never know. You’d think you’d wanted to. Actually wanted to.

That’s what that woman had thought.

‘You want me.’

You wondered if you could be hypnotized by proxy. You heard his words. But they weren’t directed at you. He wasn’t talking to you, and you knew it. But could you have been hypnotized, too?

No.

You weren’t hypnotized.

You couldn’t be; you didn’t want him.

Still, you found yourself thinking being hypnotized in a such a way wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world. As much as you naturally disliked the idea of your mind being out of your control, manipulated, you found something appealing about the idea in fantasy. Free to… to be… 

You shouldn’t even fantasize.

Even if this wasn’t a sick and twisted reality for a number of people he then killed, he was still your flatmate. You shouldn’t… couldn’t… 

You wouldn’t.

For someone so frustrated with the concept of not controlling your own mind, you couldn’t seem to redirect your thoughts. And so, as your hand moved under the sheets, you pretended it was someone unfamiliar you were picturing.

You pretended you weren’t pretending you were in a certain room, with a certain person, who didn’t have dark hair, and hazel eyes, and a warm laugh, and-

Guilt and desire and self-loathing mingled in ways you didn’t entirely despise.

When you finally fell asleep that night, your dreams were disturbing. She sat at the foot of your bed. You recognized her, though you’d never actually seen her. 

Kura. 

She was smiling widely, just as she did in the missing person poster her family was still posting all over Wellington. You stared at each other for an eternity when, suddenly, she had changed. She was covered head to toe in blood, and her constant smile now seemed insidious. Fear and guilt raced through you as she opened her mouth, and the word, instead of coming from her throat, echoed loudly in your brain.

COMPLICIT.


	16. Chapter 16

“Good evening, Y/N,” Viago greeted you cheerily as he entered the lounge. He was definitely a morning person. Evening person? Whatever.

“Hey,” you shot back in a monotone. You sounded about as good as you felt. Not very.

“Is everything okay?”

“Yeah,” you answered, though you were sure your tone was doing nothing to convince him. “I’m just exhausted.”

“You didn’t sleep well last night?” He asked, concerned.

“Not really. I was in and out of sleep. I think I was having nightmares.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. What about?”

“No idea,” you answered honestly. Your sleep was fitful, and you felt uneasy and disturbed upon waking, but you couldn’t recall your dreams.

“Then how do you know they were nightmares?”

You shrugged. “I could just tell.”

Viago nodded in understanding. Making his way over to the ancient green couch where you sat lengthwise, taking up every cushion with your outstretched legs, he asked, “May I sit?”

“It’s your couch.” You lifted you legs just long enough for him to sit down, then laid them to rest on his lap. He set his hands on your shins, giving you a gentle squeeze as he settled.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

You offered him a gentle smile. “That’s okay. There isn’t really anything to talk about, since I don’t remember the dream. Thank you, though, I appreciate it.”

“Of course.”

“Do vampires get nightmares?” you asked. “Do you still dream?”

“Oh yes. Vampires dream. Our dreams are a lot more vivid than human dreams, though.”

“That must make the nightmares a bitch, huh?” you joked.

He nodded, without any humor. “It does.”

“Oh. Sorry.”

He shrugged it off. “I don’t have nightmares too often anymore.”

“What do you dream about?” Viago paused, and you blushed, realizing that was a very personal question. “Sorry. You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

“No, it’s fine. My dreams are much the same as they were when I was alive, just more vivid. They’re usually quite nonsensical, just flashes of scenes, mainly. Though, I’ve dreamed about the sun much more often since I’ve become a vampire.”

You supposed that made sense, him not having seen the sun in hundreds of years. Though, with the sun’s effect on vampires, that sounded more like a nightmare than a dream. Maybe it was. You asked him, “Dreams or nightmares?”

“They’ve been both. But they’re usually good dreams. I can go out and feel the warmth on my skin and not burn. It’s nice. Though, I’m not sure it’s right anymore. I’m not sure I remember what sunlight actually feels like after all this time.”

Your heart ached for him, and for the rest of your flatmates. Petyr hadn’t seen the sun in over 8000 years. You couldn’t even begin to imagine. They had all gained so much. Transformation, teleportation, immortality. You hadn’t thought about some of the little things they’d lost. Not being able to eat human food and having to kill to survive had crossed your mind, obviously. And you were aware, of course, that they were nocturnal, but you had never really thought about their having to give up sunlight.

“Is there any way, indirectly, that you could at least look at the sun?”

“We watched a video of a sunrise when Stu was teaching us about the internet.”

“That’s nice,” you offered.

“I suppose so. It was a bit hard to enjoy. Seeing the sun pass the horizon filled me with fear, even though I knew it couldn’t really harm me.”

If your heart had already ached for him, now it had broken.

“That’s awful, Viago, I’m so sorry.”

He smiled gently. “It’s not really a big deal. Most of the time I don’t miss it, anymore. We’re supposed to be talking about dreams, remember?”

You laughed. “Oh, right. How could I have gotten so off topic?” you teased.

“What about you? What do you usually dream about?”

Deacon loudly clamored down the stairs. “Are we taking about dreams?” 

“Ja. Y/N had a nightmare.”

“What happened?”

“I don’t know,” you said. “I can’t remember.”

“Vampire nightmares are especially realistic.”

“I know. Viago mentioned that.”

“Move your legs so I can sit.”

You rolled your eyes. “Fine, but I’m putting them back after you sit.”

You swung your legs out of the way while Deacon sat down, waiting for him to get situated before you put your legs back across both of their laps.

“I had a really freaky dream the other day,” Deacon said.

You and Viago looked at him, waiting for him to continue.

“I was being chased by a giant rat. It eventually caught me and I could feel myself being chewed up alive in its enormous teeth.”

Viago gave him a sympathetic look.

You shot him a look somewhere between dumbfound, disgust, and disbelief.

“Uh…” You had no idea what to say to that. 

“Your nightmare couldn’t have been that bad, Y/N.”

No, probably not. So at least there was that.

“Is Vlad awake?” Deacon asked. “He made me promise to move a body with him this evening.”

The woman from last night. The one he’d hypnotized. He’d slept in the same room as a corpse? How horrifyingly macabre. You thought back to the dirty cereal bowl on your bedside table and wondered if that was comparable.

“No, he hasn’t been down here yet,” Viago answered.

“I met her last night. The body.” You winced a bit. “The woman,” you corrected. “She ran down here and Vladislav hypnotized her in front of me. Can humans get hypnotized by proxy?”

“By proxy?”

“Yeah. If someone gets hypnotized in front of me, could I also get hypnotized? Even if I’m not the one being hypnotized…? Or spoken to? Or whatever?”

They were both looking at you, seemingly puzzled.

“Did you get hypnotized last night?” Viago asked.

“No!” Your face heated, both from answering too quickly and strongly, and from the memory of last night. You tried again, more calmly, hoping they hadn’t noticed. “No. Just hypothetically. If a vampire is hypnotizing someone, could a nearby human also get hypnotized?”

Deacon, either not hearing or choosing to ignore your explanation of this being hypothetical, asked, “What did he hypnotize her about? Did you end up doing the same thing?”

“Nothing! He didn’t- It’s just an example. I was just curious.”

Deacon gave you a suspicious glance.

“Well, vampires can hypnotize multiple people at once, but it’s extremely difficult,” Viago explained. “Vladislav is known for his hypnotizing abilities, and can hypnotize entire crowds on his better days. But it takes effort; you can’t accidentally hypnotize anyone.”

You nodded. That was good. Not that it mattered. You weren’t hypnotized. You couldn’t have been, because you didn’t- Well, because you just weren’t hypnotized.

“Besides, if you are hypnotized, you usually don’t remember it happening.” Viago told you this in a tone that was probably meant to be comforting, leading you to assume that he also didn’t believe you were dealing in hypotheticals. 

You knew you weren’t hypnotized; you should have just kept your mouth shut.

Thankfully changing the subject, Viago asked, “What are your plans tonight, Y/N?” 

“I have no plans. I’m just going to order food because I’m lazy and tired, and then go to bed early. Why?”

“I’m trying to plan an evening. Nick says he knows a good drinking game, and we have some alcoholic blood in the refrigerator.”

Deacon perked up, officially moving on from your previous line of inquiry. “Yes!”

It was a bit jarring to see Viago, looking and dressing the same now as he did in the hundreds of years old portrait behind him, discuss throwing a small party of drinking games and getting pissed. It was astounding how they managed to incorporate aspects of so many different time periods into their personalities at once. You decided, though, that that was not the most interesting thing to take from Viago’s statement.

Instead you asked, “Alcoholic blood?”

“Ja,” Viago affirmed. “When humans drink, the alcohol enters their blood. If they’re very drunk, their blood can can get vampires drunk.”

“Huh.” Interesting. Logically, that made sense, you’d just never thought of it before. A lot of things about vampires made sense, if you’d only think of them before they were brought up.

“It works with things besides alcohol, too,” Deacon said. “Anything that can get into the blood. Like drugs. A few years ago, when psychedelics were big…” He trailed off, making a blissful facial expression.

“Were psychedelics big a few years ago?”

Deacon nodded. “Oh yes.” His face grew more pensive before he added, “I think it was a few years ago. It could have been more.”

“Are you talking about the ‘60s?”

His face lit up. “Yes!”

“So, more than a few years ago, then.”

He shrugged.

“Well, either way, I’m not up for getting drunk tonight, but I’m very up for seeing you all get drunk at some point, so keep me posted.”

“I’ll find a night when everyone is free,” Viago said.

“I’m pretty sure I’ve heard the expression ‘three’s a crowd.’”

Three heads turned up towards the top of the staircase, to where Vladislav now stood.

“You know there are other places to sit in the lounge, right?”

You gave him a sour look. “We’ll, I’m comfortable.”

He smirked down at you. “You might be the only one.”

“Just how heavy do you think I am?” you asked, feigning offense.

“Actually, I am feeling a bit cramped,” Deacon admitted.

You sighed, swinging your legs off the couch and sitting upright, letting Deacon migrate from the couch to an armchair.

“Hey, Vlad,” Deacon called as he settled in his new seat, “Did I hear you with a human down here last night?”

You froze. What did he think he was doing?

“Yeah,” Vladislav answered. “Her hypnosis lapsed. She realized what was happening and tried to get out. I met her down here and brought her back up before she left.”

“I hate when they do that,” Viago muttered.

Ignoring him, Deacon pressed on, “What did you do? Hypnotize her again?”

“Yeah.”

“What did you tell her?”

If looks could kill, Deacon would be dead twice over. If he saw your heated glare, he ignored it.

Vladislav shrugged. You had hoped he would find Deacon’s question too invasive or too strange. It didn’t seem as though he did, however, as he answered, “I told her she wanted me and wanted to come back up to my room. Just normal stuff.”

“Oh, right,” Deacon replied. 

To his credit, he didn’t turn to you, or give you a strange look. Unfortunately, you caught a side eyed glance from Viago. 

You thought about getting Deacon alone and throwing your necklace at him, or singing a hymn, or-

“Am I the last one up?” Vladislav asked, effectively moving the conversation past Deacon’s prying.

“No,” Viago answered. “Petyr hasn’t come up here yet.”

“Someone had better wake him up,” Deacon said. “If he sleeps too late, he’ll be up all day, just standing in his tomb. And I’m not doing it,” he added quickly, before anyone could ask him to.

“I’m not doing it either. I do it all the time, and he’s nasty when he wakes up.” 

“Well, I’m not doing it,” Vladislav said, leaning forward onto the banister. “Besides, Deacon and I have something to take care of.” Disposing of the body.

Three heads turned to look at you.

“What, me?” you asked, surprised.

“Why not you?”

Because he’s apparently ‘nasty’ when he wakes up? You didn’t voice that concern. Instead, you rose from the couch, and headed downstairs to wake up your fourth flatmate. It was better than helping someone transport a corpse, you supposed, and certainly better than remaining up here in uncomfortable silence with Viago. 

You sighed. At least you could go to sleep in a few hours.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not necessarily relevant, but definitely worth sharing:
> 
> My girlfriend, an entire lesbian: “Are you going to do a shirtless Stu scene?”  
> Me: “No???”  
> Gf: “Can you?”  
> Me: “Why would I do that?”  
> Gf: “Because he’s the sexiest one.”  
> Gf, whispering: “GIS is sexy...”


	17. Chapter 17

You woke up at a decent hour for once. Both exhausted from your nightmare and its accompanying fitful sleep, and out of a desire to avoid Deacon and Viago, you’d actually gone to bed early the previous night. For the first time in a while, you wouldn’t have to choose between eating either breakfast or lunch. Flatting with four vampires led to a lot of late nights.

Checking your phone, you found a number of texts from late last night. Petyr had sent you a loose apology for scaring you half to death when you woke him up. Viago sent a text asking if you were free next Friday for the drinking game night. You shot him a quick reply confirming your availability.

A third text was from an unknown number, received early this morning. You opened the message, reading, ‘Hey Y/N. This is Stu. I got your number from Deacon. Are you free for lunch today? I need to talk to you about something.’

You paused, thumbs hovering over the keyboard. For a brief moment you were filled with anxiety. Was Stu asking you out on a date? Not that there was anything wrong with Stu, of course, he just wasn’t your type, and you really didn’t want things to be weird. But no, that couldn’t be it. Thankfully. ‘I need to talk to you about something.’ That wasn’t a date, but it could be something bad, something serious. Was Stu in trouble? Your anxiety flared anew.

You drafted a reply. ‘Hey Stu. Lunch is fine. Does noon work? What do you need to talk about?’

His response was immediate. He ignored your question but confirmed for noon and sent you the address of a café. You thumbs-upped his text and set the phone aside, chewing on the inside of your lower lip in concern. 

~

You struggled with your groceries, one paper bag in each arm. You were nearly running down the sidewalk. The condensation from the thawing ice cream was wearing the structural integrity of one of the bags, and you desperately wanted to make it back to the flat before the bottom inevitably gave out. You’d forgotten your reusable bags at home, and were now at the mercies of paper. And paper, apparently, had few mercies.

You felt the contents shifting, and further picked up your speed, probably looking quite ridiculous as you more or less sprinted down the street, clutching the disintegrating bags to your chest. It was all for naught, though, as the bottom of the bag gave out, spilling a carton of ice cream, a quart of milk, and a boatload of produce onto the pavement. 

You let out a loud sigh of exasperation, startling a passerby.

You leaned against a wooden telephone post, surveying the damage before getting to work. You added what you could to the other bag, resigning yourself to cleaning all the produce immediately upon arriving home. You decided to carry the ice cream and milk in your hands, not wanting to damage the other bag with either weight or moisture. 

Standing once again, with your groceries balanced somehow even more precariously than before, you resumed your trek home. Or, more accurately, you attempted to resume your trek home. Instead, you took a half a step, but were yanked back to the telephone pole by your pants. Awkwardly turning around with your arms full, you found that your pants were caught on a staple that was holding up one of the many posters covering the post.

You sighed, setting down your groceries again, and taking extra care not to tear your pants, or worse, de-pants yourself. Turning around as best you could, you began working at the staple. After a few minutes, and one near-catastrophe with a would-be splinter, you managed to work the staple loose from the post. Unfortunately, it was still stuck to your pants, now holding a poster to your backside. You tore the sheet of paper from yourself and decided to remove the staple from your clothing at home. You were about to crumple it up and toss it away when something about it grabbed your attention. 

It was a missing person poster. A woman named Kura had gone missing over a year ago, and her family was willing to pay a hefty sum of money for any information leading to her safe return. While obviously sad, that hadn’t been what garnered your attention. It was the photograph, large and centered on the poster, that drew you in. The woman in the photo had bright, brown eyes, and a wide, happy smile. You’d never seen her before.

But you recognized her.

Had you known her? You reread the information on the poster. You couldn’t have known her. She was last seen just days after you moved out of your flat with Dawn. Unless you met her in that brief window of time. Would that be enough for you to remember her so viscerally, even now?

Unless, of course, you’d known her after she was ‘last seen.’ 

That thought chilled you.

What had you been involved in? Had she wound up in something shady? Had you? Or worse, had you been, even just partially, responsible for her having gone missing?

You couldn’t rule that horrifying possibility out.

You felt light-headed.

~

You sat alone at the café, anxiously drumming your fingers against the table. Checking your phone, you saw you there were still six minutes to go before you were supposed to meet. You looked to the door anyway, repeating this pattern for the next four minutes until Stu arrived two minutes early. 

“Hi, Y/N,” he greeted, slightly redder than usual. Perhaps he had rushed here? “Have you ordered yet?”

“No. I was a little early, so I thought I’d wait for you.”

Gesturing behind himself towards the counter, he offered, “I can buy. What would you like?”

“No, no, I can buy my own,” you brushed off his generosity.

“I wanted to meet, and at the last minute. I can buy. What are you having?”

“Thank you. I’ll have a smoothie, and I’ve never been here, so whatever you recommend, I guess.”

“Sure thing.” Stu went up to the counter, placing the order and paying, before returning with his coffee, your smoothie, and two caprese melts.

“Thanks, Stu. So what’s up? Is everything alright?”

You bit into the caprese melt. Damn, Stu had good taste.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” His tone did little to convince you that this was true. He’s stared down at his yet untouched sandwich. You waited for him to go on. If he was this insistent on meeting, you trusted he’d decide to share his thoughts eventually. When he spoke again, he said, “Nick told me about the whole vampire thing last night.”

You stopped mid-chew, swallowing almost too much sandwich. ‘The whole vampire thing.’ That was certainly a fitting name for it. 

You looked up from your plate, eyes searching Stu’s face. What was he looking for here? Did he still need to figure out whether or not this was all actually true, or did he just need the companionship of another human stuck in this bizarre limbo between the real and the supernatural? Until you knew where he was at, there really wasn’t any way to go forward.

“And did you… believe him?”

Stu nodded quickly. “Yeah. He showed me, uh…” He faltered.

You nodded. “It’s okay. You don’t have to tell me.” You had only known Nick for a short period of time, but in that time you were able to discern that he’s quite the showboat. So, you were willing to venture a guess that his demonstration of vampirism was a bit less gentle than Vladislav’s. “Are you okay?” you asked Stu.

“Yeah. Just shaken.”

You offered him a small smile. “I can relate.”

“That’s why I wanted to talk to you. You get on with your flatmates so well, and you’ve known about this for longer than me, obviously. I thought it might be easier to talk to another human about this than with a- well, with Nick or one of the guys.”

You smiled wider, ready to play the part of expert even though you didn’t feel it. “What do you want to know?”

“Nick told me most of what I wanted to know. There were a few things I didn’t think of at the time, or just didn’t want to ask.” He paused before continuing. “How often do they have to… drink….?” He asked, struggling to chose the correct word.

“Eat,” you answered.

“Eat, then. How often do they do that?”

“It depends,” you replied, glad you had recently learned the answer to that one. “Nick eats pretty much everyday, but that’s only since he’s such a new vampire. He’ll eat less after a few years. Vladislav, Viago, and Deacon only eat a few times a week.” 

Stu looked away, down toward his very vegetarian meal. You could guess how he was feeling.

Continuing, you said, “Petyr eats even less than that, like once or twice a month, though sometimes he eats small animals in between. I don’t know if that’s just due to his age, or what. I think he might be a different kind than the others, but I don’t really know.”

A woman walking past your table threw you an alarmed look, but you ignored her.

“Petyr?” Stu asked, confused.

“Oh, right! You’ve never met Petyr. He flats with us. He’s really old, like 8000 years or more. He looks really freaky, like Nosferatu-esque, but he’s a cool guy.”

“Like Nosferatu?” he repeated. He seemed dumbfounded, but you could hardly hold that against him. “So how old are the others then?”

“I don’t remember exactly.” You realized you should put their birthdays in your phone, and made a mental note to do so. “Vladislav is 800 something. Viago is over three hundred, closer to 400, maybe. And Deacon is 150 or 160 or something like that. And, obviously, you’d know Nick’s age better than me.”

“Right, yeah. How long have you known? About vampires?”

“Not long. I was just looking for a flat. I actually figured they were delusional and thought that they were vampires, but not that they actually were,” you laughed. “It was actually the day Nick got turned that I found out it was all real.”

Any sense of humor you’d just had quickly disappeared, and you forced down the rising urge to apologize to Stu for what happened to his friend. It wasn’t your fault. You couldn’t do anything to stop it. Those words were becoming a sort of mantra to you.

“Do you ever…” he trailed off, leaving the sentence unfinished.

“Do I ever what?”

“No. Sorry. I shouldn’t pry. It isn’t really my business.”

“It’s fine. Pry away. You’re the only other human I know who’s in a similar situation.”

He smiled at you, and you returned the gesture. You supposed there were worse things to experience camaraderie over.

“Do you ever feel guilty?” he asked. “About the people they kill? Not that it’s your fault, or our faults, of course, I just-“

You interrupted him with your answer. 

“Every day.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m not going post next week, since it’s my gf’s birthday, and I’m using the weekend to prepare birthday things instead of writing. 
> 
> Thanks for reading! See you in two weeks!


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, the drinking game I describe is absolutely real, and it is AMAZING. It’d the best drinking game ever. I don’t know why it’s called Matt Damon, that’s just the name I was given when I learned it. I think it goes by many different names. I highly recommend it, as it is the ideal drinking game for 3 main reasons:
> 
> 1\. You can’t forget who’s turn it is, no matter how drunk you get, because you’re holding the draw pile on your turn.  
> 2\. It doesn’t take much concentration, so you can hold conversations while you play.  
> 3\. You get to spitefully screw over your friends (when doing the counting).
> 
> If the rules aren’t clear enough from the fic, send me a message at boldly-ho on tumblr and I’ll explain better, because I swear it’s amazing. Additionally, after you use up all the cards on the four by four round, you shuffle and start again on a three by three, then a two by two. That way, there have to be more cards on each pile, and the number of seconds skyrockets. It’s a blast.
> 
> Plus, if anyone gets too drunk, or doesn’t want to drink at all, they can still participate by switching out water for booze, and it won’t affect the game.
> 
> Happy reading (and happy drinking!)

“No, you’re not listening!” Nick interjected again. “Look, okay, you’ll pick it up as we play. Let’s just start.”

“No, no!” you protested. “Explain it one last time, and I promise I’ll pay attention.”

You, Nick, Stu, and all of your flatmates, including Petyr, sat around the dining room table. Tonight was the night Viago and Nick had arranged for drinking, and drinking games, and general revelry. You, Deacon, and Petyr had started drinking early, just over an hour, ago in preparation for the night, and were already feeling the effects of the alcohol. 

Deacon and Petyr were (at least) buzzed on the alcoholic blood they’d had stocked up, while you were well more than a glass deep on a strong red wine you didn’t love, but didn’t hate. At least it blended in and made the glasses of blood look less jarring.

“Pay attention this time.” You nodded emphatically, aware that it was you, Deacon, and Petyr responsible for continually derailing the beginnings of Nick’s drinking game. He, Viago, and Vladislav seemed irritated by your shenanigans. Stu did a valiant job hiding it.

“The game,” Nick began for the third… fourth?... time, “is called Matt Damon.”

“Why Matt Damon?” you asked.

“I don’t know, Y/N.” Both his gaze and his response were pointed, and you realized you’d asked that before.

“Sorry.”

“The game is Matt Damon. I’ll lay 16 cards face up in a four by four pattern. We take turns with the remaining cards in the draw pile, guessing whether the top card of the draw pile is higher or lower than any one of the cards in the four by four. If you lay down the card from on top of the draw pile on the card you choose in the four by four and your guess was wrong, you drink for the amount of seconds of cards in the four by four pile.”

“What?” Deacon asked.

“Okay, so if I point to this nine,” Nick gestured to one of the 16 cards laying face up on the table, “and guess that the next card in the pile is higher, but it turns out to be an eight or lower, I drink for two seconds. That’s because after I lay my card on top of the nine, there’s two cards there; the nine, and the one I laid down. As the game goes on, more cards are in each pile, and the drinking time goes up. Got it?”

You nodded, but didn’t check to see if anyone else was.

“If I’m right, and my card is higher than the nine, I get to go again. I can either lay on the same pile or any other card, but I have to get three right in a row before I pass the draw pile on for the next person’s turn.”

“What if it is a nine?” you asked.

“If I guess higher than a nine, and it is a nine, then I drink double. So instead of drinking for two seconds, I drink for four, since there’s two cards in the pile, and two times two is four. Following?”

You nodded again.

“Good. Now what makes it so fun is that the ‘seconds’ you drink for aren’t really seconds. They’re counted off for you. So if I had to drink for two ‘seconds,’ it would be counted off by the next two people in line. So Stu’s turn is after mine, so he’d count off the ‘one.’ Viago is after him, so he’d count the ‘two.’ I have to drink until they’re done counting. But!” Nick interrupted himself, “If I finish my drink before they’re done counting, I put my glass on my head, and whoever’s turn it is to count off their number, now has to drink for the amount of ‘seconds’ I was supposed to. After the counting and drinking is done, I’d have to start again, and get three correct guesses before it’s Stu’s turn.”

You felt a bit lost. “Wait, what happens when-“

“It’ll make sense once we get going,” Nick insisted.

Nick began, pointing at the nine he’d used as an example, guessing that the card in his hand should be lower than that. It was a queen.

He brought his glass to his lips, chugging the alcoholic blood while Stu, already familiar with the game, stared him for far too long, as Nick continued to drink, before shouting, “One!”

Viago instantly yelled, “Two!” putting Nick out of his misery.

Nick guessed that his next card would be lower than the queen he just laid down, and was correct. He made two more correct guesses, each on cards from different piles, and passed the draw pile to Stu.

You and Deacon dominated the conversation, enough alcohol in you each to feel at least slightly uninhibited. By the time it was your turn to play, there were some fairly significant piles. Most of the shorter piles were topped with numbers more in the middle of the range, sevens, eights, nines. The higher risk numbers. The tallest pile was topped with a three. Almost guaranteed success.

“Higher than a three,” you announced, flipping over a card and placing it atop the three. It was a two. You groaned.

Nick reached over, picking up the pile and counting the cards before returning it. “Ten cards; ten seconds. Ready?”

You brought your glass up to your lips.

“Count fast!” Stu said before you started drinking. “She’s only got a little wine left.”

Challenge accepted.

You began drinking as fast as you could while Deacon rapidly yelled out, “One!”

“Two!”

“Three!”

On to Stu, Viago, Petyr, back to Deacon, then Vladislav, Nick.

“Ten!” Stu shouted just as you finished drinking and brought the glass to the top of your head.

“Ha!” you shouted back. “Ten seconds for you!”

“No way! I finished counting before you got the glass on your head.”

“It was pretty close,” Nick said. “Let’s vote. Those who think Stu should have to drink?”

Your hand, as well as Nick’s and Deacon’s, rose into the air.

“Those who think he finished counting first?”

Vladislav, Viago, Petyr, and Stu raised their hands.

“Stu’s safe.”

“Outrageous,” you complained in mock upset, refilling your glass with wine.

Your next guess was another miss, though you only drank for four seconds that time. However, they may have taken even longer counting it out. After that, though, you got your three in a row and passed the deck on to Deacon.

“So how was your lunch the other day?” Nick asked, looking between you and Stu.

“Uh…” you faltered, though not due entirely to the alcohol. You hadn’t yet mentioned your lunch with Stu, largely due to the topic discussed.

“It was nice,” Stu answered for the both of you. “We went to that café, the one with all the vegetarian options.”

“Oh, yeah. They had some good sandwiches,” Nick said in a statement juxtaposed with his taking another swig from his glass of blood.

“When did you go to lunch?” Viago asked.

You could tell from his tone that he wasn’t prying, just making friendly conversation. It was hardly a crime not to mention your daytime plans to your flatmates who slept through them. Still, you felt caught in a lie.

“Earlier this week,” you answered. 

“Pretty rude of you not to invite us,” Vladislav muttered. 

For a moment, you felt offended, until you caught the corner of his mustache turning up. He was kidding, of course. Obviously. How on earth were you supposed to invite a hoard of vampires to a café at noon?

“I’m sure you’ll get over it,” you said with a smile.

“Say two,” Stu prompted you.

“What?”

“It’s your turn on the count.”

Looking across the table, you saw Viago gulping down his glass of blood, staring at you in either distress or anger; you couldn’t quite tell.

“Shit! Sorry! Two!”

The rest of the numbers were counted down quickly to make up for your lapse.

“We’re out of cards,” Viago informed the table.

“We can go another round or we can do something else,” Nick offered.

“Could we do something else? I want to migrate over to the couch,” you said. The wooden dining room chairs were wildly uncomfortable, and you desperately wanted to avoid more talk about your lunch with Stu.

“Yeah, sure.”

You stood, holding your glass in one hand and grabbing one of the wine bottles with the other. You stumbled a bit on your way to the living room, before stopping in the doorway to let the dizziness pass. You hadn’t counted how many glasses you’d had, but you do recalling opening at least a second bottle, and only you and Stu were drinking it…

“Careful,” Vladislav gently chided you, easing the bottle and glass from your grip. “Here, take Y/N’s wine,” he directed Viago, handing the bottle and glass to him as he passed. He turned back to you. “Come on, let’s try to get you to the couch in one piece.”

“It’s just right in there!”

“And yet you still manage to turn it into a life or death situation.”

You rolled your eyes, but nonetheless accepted his help in walking to the couch, leaning against him for support. You suppressed a manic giggle at the entire situation. Upon reaching the couch, Vladislav stood above you, as if supervising, as you lowered yourself onto the cushion beside Deacon. You and Deacon both rested your backs against the arms of the couch, and stretched your legs to the middle, where they tangled into a familiar pile.

“Here Y/N, drink this.” Stu appeared as if from nowhere, offering you a glass of water.

A team effort, then. You must be really drunk.

You accepted the glass and downed the entire contents, despite not being thirsty, before grabbing your glass of wine once again.

“Who’s up for a game of truth or dare?” Nick asked.

Stu groaned. “I hate truth or dare.”

“What about truth or truth?” you suggested.

“Truth or truth?”

“Yeah. It’s all the fun of truth or dare, but better because you don’t have to come up with dares, and you can stay sitting down the whole time instead of getting up to do the dares. We used to play it at sleepovers after realizing that truth or dare was much more effort than it was worth.” It was one of your favorite childhood games, and the last thing you wanted to do when drunk was get up and do some ridiculous dare for someone else’s amusement. You wouldn’t mind asking a room full of immortals some prying questions, though.

“Sure, what the hell,” Nick said. “It’s your game; you go first.”

You scanned the room, deciding on a victim. Finally settled you asked, “Viago. Truth or truth?”

His face twisted in confusion. “What?”

“Truth or truth. Instead of truth or dare. Pick one.”

“Well, the second one, then.”

“No,” you said. “There aren’t actually two questions. You just pick truth. It’s only asked to keep up the rules and make it more like a game. So, Viago, truth or truth?”

“I see. Truth!”

“What is your earliest memory?” It was an interesting question for anyone, let alone someone as old as Viago.

Viago thought for a moment before answering. “I have a few very early memories, and I’m not sure which is first. But there’s one I like most: riding a pony around my father’s estate. It was a sunny day. I remember how coarse the pony’s fur felt in my hand, and the sound of my father’s laughter.” He smiled faintly at the thought. You wondered if he often missed his family.

“That’s lovely Viago. Thank you for sharing it.” He nodded in acknowledgment. “Now it’s your turn.”

“And I can ask any question I want? To anyone? And they have to answer?”

“They have to answer honestly, yes.”

His face split into a wicked grin. “Hmm… Truth or truth…?” He dramatically looked around the room in search of a target. “Nick!”

“Truth.”

“How did it feel being being bitten by a vampire?”

Viago’s grin widened in an almost conspiratorial way. Deacon sat up straighter on the couch. You were fairly certain Petyr rolled his eyes, but Vladislav seemed to perk up. Did they know something you did not? You and Stu met each other’s gaze, both feeling as though you were missing out on an inside joke.

“Uh, it hurt?” Nick hedged.

“You have to be honest!” Deacon said.

“It did hurt! It was horrible!” Nick argued, defending his answer.

“That’s not the whole truth, though,” Vladislav corrected him.

Nick looked around the room, possibly searching for someone to take mercy on him. If that’s what he wanted, he must have wound up disappointed.

“Fine, ok! It felt good! It hurt a lot, at first. But then it felt good. Really good.” Nick took another swig of his alcoholic blood. “You knew that already. You guys are assholes.”

Vladislav let out a warm belly laugh, and you found yourself grinning in response to it. Deacon, Viago, and Petyr joined in the laughter, and you joined in spite of yourself. Nick was embarrassed, but that was the point of truth or truth. Embarrassing your closest friends.

Plus, now you knew that being bitten by a vampire was very pleasurable. You didn’t know what to do with that information, but you filed it under information worth having.

“Whatever,” Nick said. He seemed to be fighting a smile, quickly getting into the spirit of the game. “Deacon, truth or truth?”

“Truth.”

“When did you last have sex?”

You smiled widely, drunkenly waggling your eyebrows to the best of your ability. “Yeah, Deacon, when did you last do the do?”

Vladislav chuckled at your absurd euphemism.

“Last week. I transformed into a dog and had sex.”

Nick laughed, but you raised your glass, clinking it against Deacon’s, and praised him after taking a large gulp of wine, “Go get ‘em, Deacon.”

Stu scrunched up his face in disgust but didn’t say anything, to his credit.

“Okay, Deacon, your turn.”

He didn’t pause at all before turning to you. “Y/N, truth or truth?”

“Truth,” you answered promptly.

“What did you think Vladislav hypnotized you about the other night?”

“Deacon!” Viago scolded him before you could.

“I didn’t think he’d hypnotized me,” you said, giggling slightly from both discomfort and drunkenness. You untangled your legs from Deacon’s.

“Honesty,” Deacon reminded you.

You were hyperaware of everyone’s eyes on you, even without looking around the room.

Careful not to lie, you responded, “He, uh, hypnotized a victim in front of me so that she would be attracted to him, to, uh, want him, is the phrase he used.” You made a point of looking at no one as you said this. How had this happened? Thirty seconds ago you were laughing at Deacon’s bizarre sex life, and now you were living though one of the most embarrassing moments of your life. Truth or truth fell far down the list of your favorite games.

“And why is it you think you were hypnotized?” Deacon pressed.

“I- Uh, I…” you struggled, unsure of a proper defense. You didn’t think you weren’t hypnotized! You shouldn’t have mentioned anything the other night.

“That’s technically a different question,” Vladislav said. “She doesn’t have to answer under the rules of the game.”

You weren’t sure if you were grateful for his rescue or indignant of it.

“Fine,” Deacon said. You could hear the smugness in his voice. He’d made the point he’d meant to. “Y/N, your turn.”

“Stu,” you began, fully intent on choosing him next for the game. “I think I need to throw up,” you finished instead.

He rushed to your side as you shakily stood, and then helped you to the bathroom. You prayed your drunkenness would wash away your memories of the evening.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Um, Trader Joe’s has cheap wine and I’m a lightweight. So, after two bottles, I’m ready to puke and I wrote most of this. So, imagine two bottles of wine for reader I guess? Idk. If this chapter sucks, my defense is drunkenness.


	19. Chapter 19

The evening after your collective drunkenness, you had considered hiding in your room, avoiding everyone, particularly Vladislav. Instead, you’d put on a brave face that night, and every night since, pretending that nothing had happened and that nothing was wrong. You weren’t sure how convincing you were, but no one said anything about it, at least.

You jumped half out of your skin when Vladislav all but yelled in your ear in order to be heard over the thumping dance music. “I’ve found someone and I’m going home! Can you make it back yourself?”

You nodded and offered him a thumbs up instead of shouting to be heard. You watched him leave, his arm resting over the shoulders of his ‘someone,’ most certainly a victim. Viago and Deacon had both already left with ‘someones’ of their own, making you the last member of your party at the club.

As the loud song ended, you made your way off the dance floor, ready to pay your tab and get home. Instead, you collided with another person, as apparently neither of you were looking where you were going. 

“I’m sorry!” you shouted over the next song, placing a hand on his cool forearm, both to steady yourself and to check on him.

He offered you a small, close-mouthed smile. “It was my fault entirely! Can I offer you a drink?”

You considered his offer. He was unbelievably attractive, with blue eyes, and dark, thick hair. He exuded confidence and charm. Still, you’d wanted to get home, and as attractive as he was, you weren’t too interested in taking any flirtation farther than that.

Eventually you shook your head. “No, thank you. Maybe another time.”

He nodded kindly, accepting your rejection with a grace that almost made you reconsider. “At least allow me to walk you out?”

His voice took on a new cadence, becoming almost musical. You felt butterflies in your stomach as you looked into his eyes. The club faded until the world consisted of nothing but him.

“Of course,” you answered breathlessly, forgetting all about your unpaid tab.

He gently grabbed your overheated hand in his cooler one, and took you out a side door. It was clearly a fire exit, as it was away from the crowd of club patrons and almost opposite the main entrance. It led into an empty alley, rather than out onto the street. Though you could see the occasional person pass by the alleyway’s entrance, they clearly did not see either of you standing in the shadows. 

You didn’t mind. You liked being alone with him. He flashed you a dizzying smile as he pushed you up against the brick wall of the club. His white fangs sparkled under the lone light above the club’s side door.

You faltered, putting your hands between yourself and the man as he leaned in towards you. Hadn’t you wanted to go home? You’d rejected his drink offer. You didn’t want to be here. Right? How had the two of you even gotten out here?

“Wait!” you shouted a bit too loudly, suddenly panicked. “I- I don’t want…” you trailed off again, no longer panicked or upset, but unsure and confused. You weren’t sure anymore what you didn’t want.

“Of course you do,” he answered anyway. And he was right. Of course you did. You loved the way his voice sounded.

He leaned towards you again, and you felt his lips brush your neck. Goosebumps prickled at your skin as you shivered. You craved his touch. You tilted your head, giving him better access. His lips parted gently.

Suddenly, violently, he was torn from your body, and it was like a bucket of icy water had washed over you, leaving you dazed. You looked around quickly, trying to get your bearings. Where were you? How had you gotten here? 

You stood in a dark alley, standing against a filthy brick wall. Across the narrow space, Vladislav stood with the man you’d bumped into into the club. Though ‘stood’ wasn’t the half of it. They were struggling, grappling with one another in a fight you couldn’t begin to identify the cause of. You watched as they wrestled, unsure what, if anything, you should do. Finally, Vladislav seemed to gain the upper hand, harshly gripping the other man by the front of his shirt and slamming him into the exterior of the neighboring building, where his head smacked with a sickening thud against the brick.

You gasped in shock. A blow to the head such as that would have easily rendered you unconscious or worse, but the man seemed unfazed, glaring at Vladislav who held him pinned to the wall.

He hissed in Vladislav’s face, and you saw his exposed fangs. Oh, god. Fangs. You’d been alone with a strange vampire in a dark alley. What had almost just happened to you? You felt suddenly dizzy with belated fear.

“What’s your fucking problem!” the vampire spat. “I saw you with her, but you left her! She was fair game!”

Vladislav growled and pushed the vampire harder against the wall as he said, “Don’t fucking touch her.” His voice was dangerously calm and you felt a chill run down your spine in response to his words.

“What, is she your familiar?” he sneered.

Vladislav slammed him against the brick again, and there was a resounding crack as his head hit the wall a second time. This appeared to have much more of an effect than the first blow did, and his head lolled for a second before his half-glazed eyes rose again to meet your flatmate’s.

“Don’t fucking touch her,” Vladislav repeated menacingly. “She’s under my protection.” With that, Vladislav dropped the other vampire, who sunk to the ground, before scrambling up to the best of his ability in his still-disoriented state, and running out of the alley, not stopping to give you a second glance.

Your heart was racing, both from witnessing the altercation between the two vampires and from the cold fear of realizing what would have happened had Vladislav not found you.

You opened your mouth to thank him, but snapped it shut when he whirled around to face you, eyes still blazing with rage. As he took a step towards you, you instinctively tried to take one back, bumping up against the wall.

“What the hell is wrong with you!” His voice was no longer calm. 

Vladislav had never spoken sternly to you before, let alone yelled as he was doing now. You couldn’t even remember the last time anyone had actually yelled at you, not really. You blinked back the tears that were springing to your eyes.

“Well?” he shouted at you. You realized his original query had not been rhetorical. “What possessed you to follow a vampire into an empty alley in the middle of the night! Don’t you have any sense at all? And where’s that damn necklace? It won’t do you any good if you don’t actually wear it!”

You initial upset was replaced by indignation at his accusations. As if you would knowingly and purposely put yourself in such a dangerous situation.

“I am wearing it!” you shouted back. “And if you don’t stop fucking yelling at me, I’ll take it out and prove it!”

Vladislav huffed but shut his mouth.

“He must have hypnotized me.” You volume was lowered, but your tone was still just as biting. “I don’t just follow strange men into dark, isolated places; I’m not a fucking moron. I don’t even remember leaving the club.”

He nodded at your words, but didn’t say anything other than, “Let’s go home.”

You wanted to tell him no. That he could fuck right off and you would get home without him. Only now, after your close call, you didn’t feel entirely certain you would make it home without him. You felt unsafe, and you’d rather walk in angry silence than fearful solitude.

Still, you were livid, so you walked towards the street without acknowledging him, trusting that he’d follow. He did.

The two of you walked side by side for a few blocks in total silence, both stubbornly looking straight ahead.

“Are you alright?” he finally asked.

You brought your hand up to your neck, feeling the ghostly sensation of that vampire’s mouth on you as you replied, “Yes. Thank you.” You still looked pointedly ahead, though you could feel his eyes on you.

“I’m sorry I shouted at you.”

“Thank you,” you said again. “I’m sorry I shouted, too.”

You finally brought your head up to meet his gaze, and almost tripped when you saw the distress on his face as he looked at you. You stopped walking, placing a hand gently on his arm to stop him. 

“Are you okay? You seem pretty shaken.” You, of course, were shaken as well, and probably looked even more upset than he did. But you imagined that was to be expected. He looked incredibly unsettled for someone who hadn’t been almost eaten.

“I thought you were dead.” He said it like it was an accusation, and you tried not to take offense. “I was up the street when I heard you yell, and by the time I got to that alley, I could see you pressed up against that wall, with that vile creature’s mouth on your neck, and I thought I was too late, that you were being drained of all your blood.” He spoke through gritted teeth, and you saw a vein visibly pulse across his forehead. “I thought that maybe, if I was lucky, I’d be able to at least turn you into a vampire before it was too late, but I really thought you were already dead.”

“You were going to turn me into a vampire?” 

“If it was the only way to save you, then yes.”

You thought for a moment before speaking. For whatever reason, you mind flashed to Kura’s missing person poster. “But, I don’t want to be a vampire.”

“That wasn’t really my point, Y/N.”

“No, right, of course not. Sorry.” 

The two of you resumed walking, though this time with less distance between you.

“Thank you,” you said softly. “I really don’t know how it happened.”

“He hypnotized you,” Vladislav confirmed. “If you don’t remember anything, then it was hypnosis.”

“Was there anything I could have done?” 

“No.”

The necklace you wore felt suddenly heavy, and you no longer felt safe with it. It was as if it existed only as a cruel reminder of your true helplessness. You felt hot tears prick your eyes again. You tried blinking them away, but Vladislav noticed.

“Hey,” he said gently. “What’s wrong?”

You shook your head. You hated crying in front of other people. “Nothing, sorry.”

You approached the house at last, and made a beeline for the front door before Vladislav stopped you, pulling you down to sit beside him on the front steps. 

“It’s not nothing. Do you want to talk about it out here? Before we go in and have to deal with everyone else?”

His kind treatment of you, clearly spurred by your tears and in such a juxtaposition of his early shouting, threw you over the edge, and your tears flowed more freely, morphing into soft sobs.

“Sorry, I’m sorry,” you apologized for your crying. “It’s just- I’m just- I’m helpless and defenseless, and I was almost killed tonight! And what if you weren’t there? What if-“ The words fell out rapidly, punctuated by your crying.

“Well, I was there,” he said firmly, looking into your wet eyes, a concerned frown etched onto his face.

Your crying slowed, and you took a deep breath, momentarily calmed by his reassurance. You knew though that he couldn’t always be there, and that his being there tonight was more luck than anything else. You couldn’t imagine ever feeling safe again after what had transpired.

You spoke again, voice breaking as you did so, “Vladislav, I’m scared.”

He said nothing, instead gathering you to him in a tight hug, nearly pulling you onto his lap. You were stunned for a moment, but leaned into it, letting your tears fall again as you buried your head in his half-exposed chest. After a minute or so, you felt his face bury in your hair as he quietly shushed you, stroking your back.

After a while, your tears stopped, but you stayed put, comforted by his holding you. You heard the front door open, and tensed, preparing to leap away from Vladislav. But his gripped tightened on you, not so much as to be harsh, just enough to stop you from leaving. You relaxed in his arms, once again keeping you face hidden against him, not caring enough about who had opened the door or what this looked like. You were thoroughly exhausted from a combination of the late hour, your brush with death, and your sobbing fit.

“What’s happening?” It was Viago.

“Y/N had an uncomfortably close call with another vampire. She’s pretty shaken up.” You felt his words rumble through his body as much as you heard them.

You thought maybe you should be irritated that they were talking about you like you weren’t there, but you were too physically and emotionally drained to participate, anyway.

“Is she okay? How close a call? With who?”

“I’ll tell you about it later. I’m going to try to get her up to bed for the night.” You felt panic rise inside you again at the prospect of being alone. As if reading your mind, he continued, “I’ll probably stay with her until she falls asleep. Can you have a glass ready for me after? I didn’t get a chance to eat anything.”

“Sorry,” you muttered against him, feeling fresh guilt over causing his hunger.

He ignored you.

“Ja, I can do that,” Viago affirmed.

You heard the front door click shut once again, then felt Vladislav’s hand move up from its place on your back to pull the back hair from your face. Your face now visible, you turned your eyes up to his without moving from your resting position on his chest.

“Hi,” you said upon making eye contact.

“Hi.” The corners of his mouth twitched up. “You heard the plan. Are you ready for bed? Can you walk or do you need help?”

Certain that help meant being carried, and already embarrassed enough and dreading seeing anyone after your minor mental breakdown, with your face still blotchy and tear-streaked, you assured him you could get upstairs yourself. You both walked into the lounge, and you steadfastly ignored your flatmates’ greetings, looking at the ground as you made your way to and up the stairs, with Vladislav right behind you. 

You kicked your shoes off immediately upon entering your bedroom, and went straight for the dresser, rummaging through for something to wear to bed. Armed with a soft t-shirt and pair of lounge shorts crumpled in your fisted grip, you turned around to find Vladislav leaning against the doorframe. You waved the pajamas at him as you walked past the bed to your en suite bathroom. 

“I’ll just change in there.”

Instead of entering the bathroom, though, you stopped just shy of the door, suddenly terrified of being alone in there. It was stupid. You knew it was stupid. Nothing could happen to you in the bathroom. And even if it could, Vladislav would be right outside, here in your room. Your other flatmates were just downstairs. There was no reason to be afraid. Any other vampires can’t even enter the house without being invited.

Still, you couldn’t be alone. Not yet. Not now.

“Um, could you actually just turn around instead?”

Vladislav cocked his head in confusion.

“So I can change in here?”

He turned around, now facing out into the hallway, as you quickly removed your dress and bra, and pulled on the shirt and shorts in such haste that the shirt was inside out and had to be removed and donned again correctly. You kept your eyes on Vladislav’s form the entire time, but he remained steadfastly faced away from you.

You gently cleared your throat as you kicked aside the dirty clothes, planning to deal with them tomorrow. “You can turn back around; I’m dressed.”

Unsure of what exactly came next, you decided to do what you would do if you were alone, and climbed into bed.

“Do you need me to stay?” 

Not trusting yourself to answer aloud, you nodded.

“Lights off?” he asked.

You nodded again and he flipped the switch, plunging the room into darkness. 

The room was silent. After a brief pause, the blankets lifted, and you felt the mattress dip. He was climbing into bed with you.

Obviously.

What else was he supposed to do? You don’t have a chair in your room. Was he just supposed stand awkwardly by the door until you drifted off? The bed was plenty big enough for two. You weren’t even touching.

You relaxed again, making yourself comfortable among the pillows and blankets. Your body was exhausted and ready for sleep. Your mind, however, was not. 

Your eyes remained wide open, staring out into nothing. The moonlight from outside you windows cast long shadows across the room, and your tired mind invented frightful villains in every corner. You were being ridiculous. You were safe. You knew you were safe.

You just couldn’t seem to feel safe.

You tried to slow your racing heart. When had it started beating so fast?

“Are you okay?”

His sudden voice beside you startled you, and you jolted. “What?”

“You’re not sleeping. You’re nearly hyperventilating.”

“I’m scared of the dark.” Your immediate honesty surprised even you.

“Do you want the lights back on?”

“No. I won’t be able to sleep with the lights on.”

“You’re not able to sleep now,” he sighed.

“I’m sorry.” The words were barely a whisper, breathed more than spoken.

His hand reached out in the dark, resting on your forearm. 

“You’re safe, Y/N. I’m right here.”

You couldn’t say how long it took, but eventually you were able to succumb to sleep, his cool hand still reassuringly against your skin.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m so, so sorry for the delay. I had a family emergency in Iowa after the derecho. (It’s all ok now, though, thankfully). Then, of course, when I got back to the land of electricity, I spilled water on my keyboard and had to order another. So here it is, two weeks late, but fully intact. Enjoy!

Your glove filled with dishwater as you submerged it in the full sink, hunting for a fork you’d dropped. You grimaced to yourself as you pulled the full, wet glove off of your hand and dumped the soapy, rust-colored water back into the sink. You’d heard Deacon say it before, and he was right: This was bullshit. You made a mental note to propose to your flatmates that everyone wash their own dishes immediately after use, and replace it on the chore wheel with something, anything, else.

These bloody dishes shouldn’t have to be your responsibility. Wasn’t this a biohazard?

“How did it go tonight?”

Deacon’s sneaking into the kitchen used to startle you. Now, you were used to it, always half-expecting to find a vampire behind you when you turned around.

Reaching into the bloody water with your bare hands, you pulled the plug, letting it all drain away. You wiped your hands on a dishcloth you assumed must have been white at some point as you answered, “It was fine.”

You had gone out earlier this evening. It was only a grocery run, but it still felt fairly momentous. It had been the first time you’d been out after dark since the night you’d almost been killed. Eaten. As none of your flatmates had accompanied you, you wore your silver cross pendant outside of your shirt, keeping any potential vampires at a distance.

It had actually been Viago’s suggestion to wear it visibly unless you were with them. You weren’t entirely comfortable with displaying the necklace, but you weren’t entirely comfortable being eaten, either, so you did what you had to do. It had made you feel secure enough to venture out, though you could practically hear your heart pound with anxiety the entire trip. But now, safe at home, having done it once, you felt confident it wouldn’t be so scary next time you went out at night. 

Baby steps.

“Did you wear your necklace out?”

You nodded in response. “Any fun plans tonight?” You didn’t overly care. What his plans were. You would be going to bed in an hour or so anyway. Mostly, you just wanted to change the subject. You knew Deacon meant well by asking after you. But it felt odd, his checking up on you. Deacon was hardly a comforting person. Your friendship with him wasn’t tender. You cared about him, of course, but your friendship was built on laughter, goofing off, and general immaturity. His caring tone was enough to drive you mad.

He shrugged. “I don’t know about fun. Vlad and I are supposed to go out and get some victims. We should go soon, though, since I’m meeting Jackie in a few hours.”

You still hadn’t seen Vladislav tonight. Glancing at the time, you remarked, “It’s getting really late. Is he still sleeping?””

Deacon shrugged again. “Maybe. He sleeps in sometimes. But if he doesn’t wake up soon, I’m going to leave without him.”

“Go wake him up, then.”

“No way. You’ve woken up Petyr, right?”

You nodded.

“Vlad’s worse than that.”

You thought back to the time you woke up Petyr and decided there was no way that was true. You shrugged off his hyperbolic explanation and offered, “I’ll go wake him up.”

Deacon snorted and rolled his eyes. “Good luck with that.”

As you went upstairs to Vladislav’s room, you smiled to yourself. That had felt better. Normal. That was how you and Deacon were supposed to interact with one another.

You knocked gently on the bedroom door. You were trying to wake him, not scare him half to death… again. “Vladislav?” you called softly. There was no response. You knocked again, calling slightly louder, “Vladislav?” 

You pushed the door open, expecting to find him sleeping away in his black coffin. Instead, the room itself was unrecognizable. Granted, you’d only been in there once, on that night you were sneaking around, but you were fairly certain the room had been different. For example, you remember there being objects in there. A coffin springs to mind.

Now, there was nothing but red silk and velvet as far as the eye could see. And the eye could see quite far. You’d only been in here once, but you knew the room hadn’t been this big. The whole house was barely this big. And up in the far corner across from the door, you saw Vladislav laying on the ceiling, three of the most gorgeous women you’d ever seen– succubi – writhing on and pawing at him, among other things. Though the sight was jarring enough, it was nothing compared to the sound. A mixture of masculine and feminine moaning, sighing, and heaving breathing assaulted your ears.

Your eyes widened as you registered what exactly they were seeing. “Oh my g-“ You stopped yourself from saying the g-word before you caused your flatmate- and possibly the succubi?- to have a negative reaction. “Sorry!”

You pulled the door shut quickly again, feeling your face reddening. How did this keep happening? At least the last time it happened, you’d walked in before anything had started. And it was only the one succubus. Not so, this time. 

The door swung open again, revealing Vladislav is his trademark, post-fuck red robe. You kept your eyes glued to his face, and to his immensely tousled hair, in order not to see anything more that you shouldn’t. Though, it was unnecessary, as you could see in your peripheral vision that the succubi were gone and the room was back to normal. 

“Sorry!” you said again, though it came out more like a squeak, your heart still hammering in your chest.

“What?” he asked, ignoring your apology. He seemed as nonplussed as always, not at all acting as if he’d just been interrupted mid-orgy.

“How did you…” you trailed off, now fully looking past him into his apparently size-changing bedroom.

“How did I what?”

You met his serious gaze and dropped your question entirely. “Deacon wanted to make sure you were awake. For finding victims together.”

“Right. I forgot. Tell him to give me twenty minutes.” With that, he returned to his bedroom, shutting the door behind him and leaving you alone again in the hall. You heard the moaning resume, now loud enough to be heard through the door.

You returned to the kitchen, picking up haste until you were practically speed walking through it. Your face was heated and you were flustered, naturally. That’s not a great way to great Deacon, though. You entered through one door, saying quickly to your flatmate as you passed, “He’s busy. Twenty minutes,” and exited out the other door, never looking up from the floor as you did so.

You sprinted back up the stairs to your own room, passing a concerned looking Viago on the way, as Deacon’s uproarious laughter echoed in your ears.

At least someone found it funny.

~

“Ooh, where are you going all dressed up like that? Got a hot date?” Dawn teased.

You rolled your eyes. You couldn’t remember the last time you had a hot date. Literally. 

“Not unless you’re talking about yourself. We were supposed to hang out tonight, remember? Hit up some bars? It was your idea.”

She threw you a bewildered look. “Yeah, but I didn’t think we should anymore. Especially not you.”

You returned the look. “Am I missing something? Again?” You’d meant the last word as a joke, but it ended up feeling like a knife twisting in your gut. Still too soon to joke, you surmised.

“Girls are going missing in Wellington; girls who look like you. Mostly from clubs and bars. They think it’s a serial killer. How have you not heard about this?”

“What!”

Dawn tapped away at her phone before turning it towards you, pulled up to a news article about the topic at hand. You snatched the phone from her grip.

“When did this happen?”

“News broke two days ago. I can’t believe you haven’t heard. But people have been disappearing for two weeks now.”

“I wonder why two weeks…” you said quietly, more thanking aloud than speaking to Dawn. You actually turned to her and added, louder, “Glad we haven’t been out in the past two weeks.”

“Yeah, no kidding.”

You scrolled through the article. Five women missing in two weeks. Three last seen in clubs, one last seen walking in Wellington central, and one that was reported missing after not showing up for work. Horrifyingly, each of them looked like you. Same skin color, same hair color, same eye color, similar height, similar build...

And you were about to go out clubbing for the night. Goosebumps formed on your arms and legs. This surely constituted a good reason to keep up with current events if ever there was one.

You wondered, momentarily, if this had anything to do with you, or, at the very least, the you from your forgotten year. Probably not. How could it? These disappearances had only been happening for two weeks. You’d begun to remember things much longer ago than that. It was just a horrible coincidence. 

You’d just have to be careful going out from now on.

Still, you thought back to the missing person poster that had nearly bowled you over when you’d seen it. She hadn’t looked like you, but it did seem odd that you may already have a connection to a missing person…

~

“What the hell is the matter with you?” Viago hissed under his breath, though his voice still floated up from the lounge.

You stood at the the top of the stairs, around the corner in the hall, and just out of sight. You had been on your way downstairs, but Viago’s hushed voice had startled you. Thinking he must have been talking to you, you opened your mouth to answer him before shutting it once more when someone else downstairs replied.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Vladislav was unaffected, monotone, and seemingly uninterested. Still, you got the impression that he knew exactly what Viago was talking about.

“Are you trying to be a jerk? With our heightened hearing, I could hear trying to wake you from all the way downstairs. You just let her walk in on you like that, and don’t say otherwise. Were you just being an exhibitionist or were you actively trying to upset her? What the hell is the matter with you?”

You. They were talking about you. You weren’t sure whether that weakened your right to eavesdrop or strengthened it. You stayed put.

Vladislav dropped any pretense of ignorance and answered coolly, “Humans become infatuated with vampires all the time.”

You felt your heart sink. It wasn’t disappointment. It was embarrassment. You really didn’t think you’d categorize sometimes-attraction to your flatmate as infatuation, but you felt slighted and humiliated that it was so openly discussed and disregarded when you weren’t present.

Viago scoffed. “Really?”

“What would you call Katherine?”

“Hey, now! Don’t be a dick.”

You weren’t sure if Deacon had been present the entire time or if he had just walked in. Either way, his defense of Viago told you that bringing up this Katherine person, whoever she was, was hitting below the belt.

“So you are just trying to be a jerk,” Viago sighed. “I don’t know why. Even if humans do fall for vampires all the time, it’s not as though vampires often fall for humans.”

Silence from the lounge.

Eventually, Deacon snorted, breaking the silence. “I think you guys just need to fuck.”

Viago sighed.

Vladislav remained silent.

“I don’t know whether that little stunt tonight was meant to piss her off or turn her on, but either way it was incredibly stupid, even for you.”

“Hey!” Vladislav protested.

“You’re different with her. You were so kind to her after you rescued her from that other vampire. I never saw you treat the Beast that way, not once.”

The Beast?

Vladislav scoffed. “The Beast would have never welcomed such treatment from me anyway.”

“Maybe. But I never saw you offer it.”

“Y/N is my friend. She was traumatized. You’re reading too much into things, looking for subtext where there isn’t any. This is real life, Viago, not one of those big, ugly books you always have your nose buried in. So what if she walked in on me having sex? You’ve all walked in on me having sex before! I have sex a lot! You’re making something out of nothing.”

“Either way,” Viago said, “We all have to live together here, Y/N included; so you can’t go around purposely antagonizing people, no matter what the reasons are.”

“The reasons are that he’s horny! I say you go upstairs, walk into her bedroom, and tell her you’re there to fuck. Her legs will open before your sentence is finished.”

You heard a soft, hollow thump, as though someone had hit Deacon upside the head. You recognized the noise from all the times you had hit Deacon upside the head. You smiled softly.


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is pretty short, but I promise it’s good.

A strangled sort of hissing noise pulled your focus from your endlessly scrolling on your phone. You snapped your head up and saw dark robes disappear around a corner. You sat, watching, as Petyr poked his head back around the corner and hissed angrily at you.

“It’s not my fault!” you shot back, leaping off the couch to draw the curtains in the lounge and block out the light from the setting sun, surely the source of his distress. “What are you even doing up so early?”

He shrugged as he entered the now-dark lounge, moving so smoothly you couldn’t be sure he wasn’t gliding. 

“Are you ok?”

He nodded once. Thankfully. You shuddered to think what could have happened if he’d come in when the curtains were open. 

“Please make sure the sun has set before you start wandering around,” you warned him. “I’m a human. I need the sunlight sometimes.”

~

More women continued to disappear. They disappeared quickly, at a rate of one to two a week. If they were dead, and it was in fact just one killer, that would make this most prolific serial killer New Zealand had ever seen. Maybe even the whole world.

All of the missing women looked like you. 

It wouldn’t happen to you though. You didn’t go out to bars anymore. You never went out at night alone. Even after all this had happened, how were these women dumb enough to keep going out?

Victim-blaming.

You knew that’s what you were doing and you knew you were wrong. These women had been taken, probably killed. And you blamed them so that you didn’t have to feel so scared that you could be next.

And so that you didn’t feel guilty. 

Not that you had anything to do with the disappearing women. 

At least, you were pretty sure you didn’t.

But, being pretty sure wasn’t the same as being entirely sure.

And that difference was enough to make you choke on your guilt.

~

“Y/N?”

You sat up higher in the bathtub, startled by the intrusion. Not that it was an intrusion, really. Whoever it was was still in your bedroom. You couldn’t see them through the small crack in the door, and if you couldn’t see them, they couldn’t see you.

“Hello?” you called back.

“Can I come in?” You recognized the voice as Vladislav’s.

“Um, no?” You sunk back down into the bathtub, causing a bit of water to slosh over the edge of the antiquated claw-foot. There were no bubbles, though, so submerging yourself did little for your modesty.

“Ah.”

‘Ah?’ What did he expect here? You were taking a bath.

You told him as much. “I’m in the bathtub right now.”

“I know.”

“Okay…?”

“May I come in, please?”

A small part of you wanted to tell him to fuck off, but the fact he’d said please took up the larger part of your mind. You’d never heard him say please before. At least, not that you could remember. He might have said it once. He must have. But you certainly couldn’t recall it.

You sighed. “Okay, just hang on a second.”

You leaned forward, water sloshing at the disturbance, and grabbed the end of the shower curtain with your wet fingertips, pulling it around the tub to leave only your head exposed.

You chewed your lower lip nervously. This was dumb; you were overthinking it. After all, Dawn had come into the bathroom to talk while you’d bathed or showered, back when you’d still lived together. Still, this felt different somehow.

Vladislav cleared his throat from behind the door. “Can I come in?”

“Yes!” you replied, before you could change your mind.

He opened the door just wide enough for him to squeeze through, then closed it behind him, keeping the warm air inside and preventing you from freezing. He walked up to the side of the tub, resting his booted foot on the toilet, and leaning forward to rest his forearm on his thigh. In this position, he towered directly over you, and you had to lay back in the tub, looking toward the cracked ceiling, in order to see his face. 

With a quick glance down on Vladislav’s part, you felt prompted to tug the shower curtain partially into the tub in order to keep yourself covered. It was both to hide your naked body, and to prevent any more heat from escaping the warm tub. You shivered as chills ran through your body. With Vladislav towering over you, fully clothed, and separated from you only by a shower curtain, you felt exposed.

“What’s up?” It took all your willpower not to visibly cringe. You couldn’t pinpoint exactly what was wrong with ‘what’s up,’ but you regretted saying it nonetheless.

He seemed to suppress a smile.

“What are you doing tomorrow night?”

You blinked in surprise. “Nothing?” you asked rather than told him.

The corners of his mouth twitched and you felt butterflies in your stomach. You made sure you maintained a firm grip on the shower curtain.

“Incorrect,” he said.

“Oh?” you asked, fighting back a smile of your own.

“Mhmm,” he nodded.

“Then what is it that I’m doing tomorrow night?” You felt your heart beating faster. Blushing and looking away felt almost appropriate, but you were caught up in his piercing gaze. You didn’t hate it.

“Well, you have two choices,” he told you, now actively smiling. Looking down at you, fangs bared, he looked almost predatory.

You sunk a little lower in the tub, smiling in return. You found yourself quite fond of whatever game the two of you were suddenly playing. “What are my options, then?” Your voice sounded breathier than you were expecting. If you were misreading this situation, you might just drown yourself.

“You could stay home, reading whatever book you’ve recently pilfered from Viago’s bookshelf, all alone, while I go out into town with the guys.”

“That doesn’t sound like much fun for me,” you said, feigning disappointment.

“No?” 

You shook your head.

“Good thing you have a second option, then.”

“Which is…?”

“You and I go out and watch the fireworks display over the harbor before going bush walking to a secluded spot I know of to look at the stars.”

Fireworks and stargazing? That sounded incredibly romantic, actually. You wondered just how heightened his vampire hearing was. Could he hear how fast your heart was racing right now?

“That sounds more fun,” you said.

“So what are you doing tomorrow night?” he asked you again.

Fireworks, stargazing, that much was clear. But what was this, really? He’d made a point of saying the first option included his going out with the other guys. So his omission of them from the fireworks and stargazing plan seemed pretty deliberate. 

It sounded like a date.

But, hadn’t you overheard him telling Viago and Deacon just the other day that he wasn’t interested in you?

And yet… Fireworks and stargazing… just the two of you…

It had to be a date. 

You couldn’t go into this uncertain, though. You had to know for sure. The stress of the next 24 hours would flat out kill you, otherwise.

What are you doing tomorrow night? He was still staring you down, not at all threateningly, but still very seriously, waiting for an answer.

“I’m going on a date,” you told him, trying your best to sound confident. You held your smile, though inside you felt as though you might combust.

Oh, god, if you were wrong…

Thankfully, he grinned and said, “Correct.”

Your smile widened, if that was even possible, and you nearly lost your grip on the shower curtain in your excitement.

“I’ll let you get back to it,” he said, glancing meaningfully to the curtain. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Y/N. Good night.”

As he stood to leave, you stopped him. “Vladislav?” You almost, almost, hated that your voice still sounded so breathy. 

“Yes?” He looked so damn pleased with himself.

“Couldn’t this have waited until I was dressed?”

You weren’t sure whether he was just too excited to ask you, or whether he was trying to corner you naked and at your most vulnerable. Surprisingly, neither option really bothered you.

“No. It couldn’t. Good night, Y/N.”

“Good night, Vladislav.”

As he closed the door behind him, you dunked your head below the water to let out an elated laugh you hadn’t even known was building up inside you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah. It took us 40k to get here. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s twice as long as my previous chapters, but given all my previous chapters were short af, I decided not to break this one up.
> 
> PSA: Never hike in the dark. Never run on a hiking trail. Always wear appropriate footwear when hiking. If you break these rules, you will break your ankle, and also you will break your pride.

You stood in front of the mirror, your hair and makeup flawless. At least, as flawless as you were capable of doing by yourself. Still, you’d count that as a win. You turned to face the bed where your clothes were laid out, and let the bathrobe fall to the ground. You’d showered today, despite your bath last night. You’d wanted to shave, though you consciously avoided thinking about why. 

On the bed lay your favorite black dress, the one you always wear. You fought back a crisis of nerves while looking at it. He’d seen you wear it a million times, give or take. Maybe you should have gone out and bought a new dress today…? Well, it was too late now, and that dress was your go-to for a reason. On the floor beside the bed were the matching shoes. Laid out next to the dress was a set of matching undergarments. You’d also decided not to think about your rationale behind that, either.

You pulled on the clothes and shoes, but still felt naked. You glanced over to your silver cross necklace, sitting on top of your bedside table. You’d made the decision not to wear it tonight. You wouldn’t needing, and you wouldn’t even be able to take it out in front of Vladislav without affecting him, too. Still, even despite your encounter with the vampire that tried to kill you, you felt incomplete when not wearing it.

You checked yourself out in the mirror, dressed and made up and ready to go. Okay, you looked good. Thankfully.

In your enthusiasm (and anxiety), you’d started getting ready too early. Now, you were prepared to leave, and the sun had set only minutes ago. Vladislav probably wasn’t even awake yet. Swiping your book from its resting place on your bed, you trotted downstairs, resigning yourself to waiting on the couch. 

You passed Viago on the stairs, and he gave you a not-so-subtle conspiratorial wink, saying, “You look very nice tonight, Y/N.”

“Thanks, Viago.”

“Deacon and I are helping Vlad get ready. We’ll try not to take too long.” He threw you another cheesy wink and you good-naturedly rolled your eyes.

Your eyes scanned the letters in the book, and your fingers turned the pages, but your brain didn’t absorb any of the words. Instead, you were straining your ears, trying, and failing, to hear anything from your flatmates upstairs. 

You were excited. Of course you were excited. But you were nervous. Wary, even. Hadn’t Vladislav just been telling the other guys he wasn’t interested in you? And how interested in him were you, really? What if he wanted something serious? What if he didn’t want something serious? What is it that you, yourself, wanted? You were attracted to him, yes. You’d finally come around to that. But what if-

Calm down, Y/N. It’s just a first date. Don’t get ahead of yourself. Don’t get yourself worked up.

You shut the book as you finally heard voices upstairs, walking down the hall and coming towards you. This was it.

Deacon came down first, well ahead of Viago and Vladislav. He saw you sitting on the couch, made a point of looking you up and down, and said, “The black dress again?”

You felt panic rising within you yet again. “Should I have bought another dress? I almost did!”

Deacon laughed, taking the seat beside you. “No. It’s nice. It makes you look wanton, but not too wanton.”

You gaped at him. “I’m sorry, ‘wanton?’”

Before he could respond, Viago and Vladislav came down the stairs and into the lounge. Vladislav also looked much as he always did, thankfully, and was not wearing one of his ‘going out’ ensembles. He wore his usual dark pants, shirt, and suspenders. As always, his shirt was open much too low and you had to force yourself not to stare. 

He looked good.

“Are you ready to go?” Vladislav asked you.

You nodded, picking up your bag, and meeting him at the doorway. “Let’s go.”

He held the door open for you, and shut it behind you both as you headed left down the sidewalk. 

“Where are you going?” 

You turned around to find him still standing in front of the house, staring at you, a small smirk on his face.

“The bus stop?” You gestured vaguely towards it.

“We’re walking.” He tossed his head to right, up the sidewalk in the opposite direction from the bus stop. “Unless you’d rather take the bus?”

“No!” you quickly assured him, rushing back up the street to join him. “I’d enjoy walking.”

“Good. I figured it’s still early. We have time to get to the harbor before the fireworks start.”

You gave him a small smile as you both started walking, side by side, towards the harbor. You walked in amicable silence, but your heart was beating uncontrollably quickly. What were you supposed to say? You’d never done this before. Every other first date you’d been on had been with someone who was more or less a stranger. Vladislav was your flatmate, your friend. 

This was uncharted territory.

“Breathe, Y/N.”

“What?”

“Calm down,” he said. “I can hear your heartbeat racing.”

Oh, god. That didn’t bode well for you, overall.

“Sorry,” you said.

“Don’t apologize. Is that a good racing or a bad racing?”

You decided to respond honestly. “Both?” 

“Ah. That’s the second to last thing I wanted to hear,” he teased.

You laughed. You felt your pulse returning to normal.

“What’s the bad racing from, then?”

“It’s not bad, bad. Just nerves, really. I’ve never really done this before.” Catching the look he was throwing you, you quickly amended, “I mean I’ve done this before, obviously, just never with someone I already knew. I feel like none of the first date small talk applies.”

He smiled gently. “Like what?”

“Like the getting to know you questions. What do you do? Where are you from? How many siblings do you have? What’s your favorite color? That sort of stuff.”

He laughed. Loudly. Warmly. The sound made you almost lightheaded. You found that you smiled, in spite of yourself. 

“And those are all things you know about me already?” he asked, still grinning. “Not one of those questions apply?”

Your smile fell and a look of puzzlement took its place. You knew Vladislav. You lived with Vladislav. You were friends. You spoke every single night. But, now that he had called you on it, you realized you didn’t know all that much about him. 

“Uhh…” you fumbled for your words. “Your favorite color is black?”

He drew one eyebrow up, his mustache twitching with a smile. “Are you sure?”

“Yes?” 

He laughed again. You could practically feel the air around you vibrate with it. You could get drunk off that laugh. 

“It’s red actually.”

“Red?” you asked, surprised. “Really?”

“Sure. It’s a very intense, passionate color. I like that.”

You supposed that made sense.

“Okay, then, where are you from?”

“Eastern Europe.”

Now it was your turn to laugh. “Yeah, I gathered that. Care to be more specific?”

Vladislav shrugged. “Countries’ borders are constantly being redrawn. Especially in Europe. I moved around a fair bit, too. My parents sold me to a circus troupe when I was a boy.”

You exhaled a small laugh before catching his gaze. Oh. He wasn’t kidding. 

“I’m sorry. That’s awful.”

He brushed off your concern. “It’s fine. I don’t remember too much of my human life. It was so long ago. From what I remember of traveling with the troupe, I mostly enjoyed it.”

Still. Wow. 

“Why did you decide to come to New Zealand?”

He sighed heavily. “I killed another vampire. That’s a pretty big deal,” he told you. You probably could have guessed that much. “Vampires are usually sentenced to death for killing other vampires.”

A pause.

“Am I allowed to ask why you killed this other vampire?”

“He was a rival vampire. He stole my schtick and all but stole my name, and he purposely benefitted from my reputation. He refused to back down. It was hundreds of years of bullshit until we dueled and I killed him.”

“Your ‘schtick?’”

“You know how I’m Vladislav the Poker?”

“It’s come up, yeah.”

“That’s because I’m known for torturing people. And my thing was poking people with implements.”

“Like stabbing people?” you asked before your brain could really register what he was saying. When your brain did finally catch up, you interrupted yourself, exclaiming, “Wait, torturing people? You torture people?” 

“Yes. Well, not so much anymore. I still have the torture chamber, though.”

“You have an entire torture chamber?”

“Yes? In the hallway that leads to Petyr’s room.” He looked at you, bewildered, as if you should have known that no house was complete without a functioning torture chamber.

“In our house! There’s a torture chamber in our house?!” you exclaimed.

“Yes, Y/N. Please, say it louder for everyone to hear.”

“Sorry,” you said at a much lower volume, though you weren’t that sorry.

“I thought you knew that.”

You weren’t sure if he was referring to his international repute as a torturer or the special little man cave he had in your own home devoted to such proclivities, but either way you were shocked. 

“I though it was a storage closet,” you admitted.

“Uhh… no.”

“Okay, well, anyway, you killed another vampire and weren’t sentenced to death, yourself…?”

“Yes. Well, he wasn’t well-liked, so I was kicked out of Europe instead of killed. It was for the best, anyway. I was going through some shit with an ex-girlfr-“ he stopped in the middle of the word, probably realizing he shouldn’t be talking about his ex on a first date. You let the moment pass, though, and he awkwardly cleared his throat before continuing. “I had some friends in New Zealand at the time, so I moved down to Wellington and I’ve been here ever since.”

“So this rival vampire, anyone I would’ve heard of?” you teased. 

“No,” he said flatly, not matching your teasing tone. This rival must still be a sore spot, all these years later. You made a mental note not to bring it up again. “When I killed Vlad the Impaler, I wiped his name from history.”

You sucked in a surprised gasp upon, obviously, recognizing the name. But you ended up inhaling your own saliva, and breaking into a very unattractive coughing fit. Hacking, gasping, tearing up, the whole nine. Vladislav comfortingly rubbed your back as you recovered.

“Are you alright?” he asked once you’d finally recovered.

You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak. Eventually, while wiping any smeared makeup from under your eyes, you said, “I’m okay, thanks. Sorry.” You decided not to clarify that you, and pretty much every other human alive today had at least heard of Vlad the Impaler, while no one had heard of the ‘infamous’ Vlad the Poker. Best to just let him have this one.

As you approached the harbor, you could see plenty of people already sitting on the beach, atop their blankets, towels, and folding chairs, ready to watch the fireworks. You realized neither you nor he had brought anything to sit on. Before you could stress about it, though, he led you past the crowds and up to the ferry. 

“I’m sorry, sir, we’re all sold out,” the attendant told him, not even bothering to look up from his phone.

In response, Vladislav reached into his pocket and pulled out two tickets for the next ferry. He’d bought them in advance, you realized with a rush of giddiness. He’d thought out the evening. The two of you boarded the ferry just minutes before it pulled away from the dock, and Vladislav pulled you by the hand to the right side of the boat.

“The fireworks are about to start. We can see them better from this side.”

As if on cue, the first fireworks lit up the sky, and the two of you stayed silent, unable to hear each other speak over the cracks and booms of the explosives. You took a half step closer to him, watching the reflection of the fireworks in the dark water of the harbor. He didn’t move away.

Eventually, when the ferry had moved far enough from the fireworks, so that they could be seen, but weren’t so deafening as to prevent conversation, Vladislav turned around, facing into the boat, and spread his arms out on the railing to lean against it. His left arm crossed in front of your body, and his hand almost touching yours. He was so close that if you took a single step sideways, he’d be fully in front of you. 

Looking down at you he asked, “Enjoying the fireworks?”

You looked away from his face and back towards the fireworks bursting over the water, and the receding, twinkling lights of the city as you continued away from the shoreline. “It’s a stunning view.”

“It really is.” You glanced up at him, to find his eyes locked on you, not the lights.

The line was cheesy. It was so cheesy.

It was so cheesy.

It was so cheesy.

Maybe, if you kept telling yourself that, the butterflies in your stomach would stop.

They refused to stop, though, so you smiled and shyly looked down. His left hand was dangerously close to yours. You moved your hand closer, taking your forefinger, and tracing the pattern of the ring on his pinky. You glanced up to make sure your action was okay, not too intimate. He still stared down at you, with that same small smile on his face, so you turned your face back down to your hands and continued your ministrations.

“I like your ring,” you told him.

“Thank you.” His voice was lower, softer. You almost missed the words.

It suddenly felt like so much, too much, and you were relieved when he gently extricated his hand from yours and turned around, leaning over the railing to once again admire the fireworks. As their colored lights illuminated the night sky, you looked around the harbor, and realized where you were going.

“Is this the Matiu Island ferry?”

Vladislav nodded in affirmation.

“I didn’t think the island was open this late.”

“It usually isn’t,” he confirmed. “But they make exceptions for some of the city-wide events.”

“Oh,” you said.

“But the whole island isn’t open. Just the beach. We’re going to have to sneak past the employees.”

If he was joking, he certainly didn’t let on. Still, a vampire on your side couldn’t hurt your ability to sneak, and if he was serious, you were game to try.

The ferry approached the island just as the fireworks were hitting their finale. You, Vladislav, and most of the other passengers on the boat stayed put as they finished, and the last lingering impressions of the show faded from the dark sky. Eventually, everyone streamed off of the boat and onto the beach. Apparently, there were activities set up for the after-hours version of the island. 

As everyone walked towards the events, and the employees handing out water and snacks, Vladislav grabbed your hand and pulled you in the opposite direction. You headed towards the trailheads, manned by a single employee, very clearly there to keep visitors on the beach where they belonged. As it turned out, there was very little sneaking required of you, as Vladislav brazenly hypnotized the young man into letting both of you pass.

The two of you disappeared into the bush, following the barely visibly trail in the dark. You probably should feel foolish, traipsing through the bush in your favorite little black dress and matching shoes, neither of which were remotely suitable for hiking. Instead, you felt nearly high. Vladislav still had your hand, pulling you along. It was quiet, conspiratorial. Intimate, almost.

You weren’t sure whether or not it was necessary, but you kept silent until you were certain you were out of earshot of the hypnotized man. When you decided you were probably far enough into the bush, you asked, albeit softly, where you were going.

“There’s a spot I know, at the top of the island. It’s perfect for stargazing.”

You felt goosebumps rise on your arms, though you weren’t sure how much that could be attributed to the chilly night air.

Eventually, Vladislav stopped. In the darkness, you barely avoided running into him before your eyes registered him stopped there in front of you.

“Why’d we stop?” Again, it was whispered. You feared that speaking too loudly would shatter… you didn’t know what exactly, but you definitely didn’t want it shattered.

“We’re venturing off-trail, here. Is that okay? Are your shoes okay for all this walking?”

You smiled at the concern in his voice. “I’ll be fine. Maybe we could slow down a little, though? Since we’re headed off-trail?”

He nodded as he lead you into the thick brush off the trail. Your route steepened significantly, and it felt more like you were climbing than walking for a while. Eventually, though, the hill leveled out, and you cleared the trees and scrub to enter into a small, grassy clearing. It overlooked the beach and the harbor, and you could see the lights of Wellington on the shore. It was gorgeous.

“You alright?” he asked. Out of the dense brush, and in the open, you could finally see him clearly again. “Caught your breath?”

You nodded, despite the fact that, no, you had not yet caught your breath.

“Come sit down,” he told you. 

He moved with a supernatural, vampiric speed, and so to your eyes, he more or less appeared laying on the grass, hands folded behind his head. Though stunned for a moment, you quickly recovered, and moved to lay beside him. You slid closer to him, not quite touching, but hardly more than a hair’s breadth away.

The stars above you twinkled beautifully, and more numerous than you often saw in the city. The crescent moon shone brightly, and you took out your phone, zoomed in, and snapped a quick photo. The stars didn’t show up, but the moon looked better than you could have hoped for a phone picture, so you quickly saved the image and tucked the phone away again, returning your gaze to the view above you.

“Gorgeous,” you breathed.

“Very.” This time he was actually looking at the stars.

“Do you come here a lot?”

He nodded. “Yes, actually. I like to come out here to be alone.”

“How do you get out here if the island is usually closed at night?”

“I fly.”

Flying. Right. Of course. Ask a silly question…

“Thank you for sharing it with me,” you told him. You felt honored that he was willing to bring you somewhere special to him. “It’s beautiful here.”

You stared at the stars, following the occasional wandering satellite with your eyes. At one point, a cool breeze blew through, and you shivered. Vladislav sidled up to you, and managed to slide one of his arms under your head. He didn’t produce any body heat, but he did insulate you from the cold air. You leaned into him.

For warmth.

“Better?” His voice was low, calming, warm. You could feel the word exhaled onto your skin.

You hummed in contented affirmation.

“Good.”

“So,” you began, angling your face so that you were looking in his direction. Your noses were almost touching, but you willed yourself not to pull away. It was nice, really. “What made you decide to ask me out?”

“Why?” he asked, so quietly, so closely, a teasing smile forming in his eyes. “Are you not having a nice time?”

You matched his smile and tone. “I’m having a very nice time, actually.”

“I’m glad to hear that.”

“But, I did hear you telling Viago and Deacon the other day that you definitely weren’t interested in me, so this is a bit of a left turn.”

He sighed. “Ah.”

“Ah,” you echoed, though still smiling. “That obviously wasn’t true, though?”

“Obviously.” You could see his eyes twinkling in the starlight.

After a period of silence, you finally said, “You don’t have to tell me anything if you don’t want to.”

“No, no, it’s fine,” he began, his face still inches from yours. “I don’t want to get into it, but I haven’t actually dated in while. Not since I went through a bad breakup a few years ago.”

You had gathered that ‘a few years’ really wasn’t that long to a vampire, but still. Was he scared of getting hurt?

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright.”

Each time he spoke, the air he exhaled wafted over you. It smelled sweet, surprisingly. You couldn’t remember ever finding the scent of somebody’s breath so pleasant. You stared into his hazel eyes, glancing briefly down to his lips, which were framed by his facial hair and looking surprisingly soft.

And somehow, suddenly, his lips were on yours.

The first sensation you registered was that of his facial hair, coarse against your skin. Immediately after, your brain latched onto the feeling of his lips moving against yours, just as soft as they looked. And after what felt like forever, but may have been less than a second, you began moving your lips against his.

When he felt your active participation, he grew bolder, kissing you harder, and rolling you onto your back so that his face was above yours. You felt his weight on top of you. Not heavy, but comfortably pinning you to the ground. His hair fell to frame both of your faces, softly brushing against your cheeks.

As he grew bolder, so did you, and you parted your lips to brush your tongue against him, silently asking for entry. He obliged, and your tongue plunged into his mouth, relishing the sharp sensation of his fangs, and exploring the gap between his front teeth. Your exploration didn’t last long, though, before his tongue surged into your own mouth, and one of his hands rose to tangle in your hair, pulling it slightly.

Oh.

He was incredibly good at this. Unbelievably good at this.

You felt a firm pressure between your legs, and moaned into his mouth when you realized he’d brought his knee up to press against you. If you’d bucked once against it, you could hardly be blamed.

Lightheaded. 

Woah, you were lightheaded.

You eventually broke away from him, and sucked in the cool night air. Vladislav pulled himself back, sitting up rather than lying back down, and gave you a little room to breathe and collect yourself.

He looked at you with a small smirk, incredibly smug. It made you angry how well-deserved that look truly was.

“What was that for?” you asked him when you’d finally caught your breath.

“You looked like you wanted it.”

You leaned forward to playfully smack his arm. Maybe Deacon was right when he said the dress made you look wanton, but you were willing to venture a guess that the dress had little to do with any wanton vibes you were putting out.

As you moved back towards Vladislav, you noticed a small set of lights moving across the harbor. The ferry! They’d left without you. You pointed this out to Vladislav, though he hardly seemed concerned.

“I figured we’d turn into bats and fly home,” he said stoically. “Does that not work for you?”

You bit back a smile, not wanting to encourage him.

“Don’t worry,” he said. “I arranged for them to come back for us.”

“Just the two of us?”

He nodded, and you moved beside him, resting your head on his shoulder, with his arm wrapped around you and his hand settled low on your hip. The two of you stared out at the view in peaceful silence.

“This is nice,” you offered after a while.

“It is. Maybe we could do something like this again? I could take you out for dinner or something?”

Your heart swelled at the mention of a second date.

“Don’t you not eat food?”

“That doesn’t mean I can’t take you out somewhere.”

You smiled. “I’d like that.”


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys. I may not be posting every week from here on out, though that’s still the goal. With the new semester in full swing I don’t always have time to work on my fic :( Hopefully it’ll never be more than a week without updating, though. Thanks to everyone for reading! <3

“Did you fuck last night?” Deacon asked.

You didn’t look up from your laptop, still hard at work. You didn’t even know what time it was, long since having covered the small time display with a post-it, not wanting to be drawn out of fixing the work problem that you may or may not have, but definitely did, cause. The fact that Deacon was up, though, meant that more time had passed than you’d thought.

Eyes still glued to the screen, finally nearing the end of your task, you responded with a deadpan, “I’m sure you know that we did not.”

Deacon grunted. “That’s what Vlad said, too.”

“Well?” you prompted. “Why would you need to ask me, then?”

“Maybe he lied.”

“Why would he?”

“To protect your modesty.”

You snorted, finally navigating to the site for clocking in and out. “Does Vladislav seem overly invested in modesty of any sort?”

“…No.”

“So why would he lie?” you repeated, closing your laptop. “We didn’t even get-“

You froze upon turning to look at him.

“Deacon, what the hell are you wearing?”

“What’s wrong with it?”

Nothing out of the ordinary, unfortunately. That was the problem. It was just a horrid combination that you hadn’t yet seen. Somehow the color orange had become involved.

“Are you going somewhere tonight?”

“Yes. We’re going out to find victims. Do you want to join us? We’re meeting Nick at Boogie Wonderland. I think Stu might be there.”

“Stu?” You’d go if Stu was going, but you didn’t want to be the only human there. At least, the only human who wasn’t on the menu.

“Pretty sure.”

“Yeah, then I’ll go.”

And that was how you ended up watching the man who had just taken you on the best date of your life try to seduce women on a crowded dance floor. Not your best idea ever.

You scowled into your drink.

You knew you were being stupid. He was just trying to eat them. There was no reason to be jealous.

Jealous. Ugh.

You’d had one date with the man and you were jealous.

If he found out, you might just have to die of embarrassment.

You jabbed the straw into the ice and glared.

“Need another?” Stu asked, appearing behind you.

You huffed. “I guess. Struck out?” You glanced back to the table where Stu had been chatting up some cute brunette.

“I guess,” he parroted back to you.

You moved your gaze to where Vladislav and Viago stood with a gorgeous woman. She placed her hand on Vladislav’s arm and you turned your face to your newly refilled drink, loudly, angrily, sucking it up through the straw. 

Stu, having followed your line of sight, offered you a sympathetic smile. “You know, I really don’t think you have anything to be worried about, Y/N.”

You sighed. “I know. I’m just working myself up.”

“You never really struck me as the jealous type.”

You shrugged your shoulders. You liked to think you weren’t usually the jealous type.

“Really,” he said, somberly, “You don’t want to be her.”

You nodded. You knew that, of course. Maybe you should slow down. The alcohol may be exacerbating your ire at the situation.

“Hey Stu!” You both looked up to find Nick standing behind you, shouting over the music. “I’m going to head out. I’ll text you tomorrow, okay?”

Stu nodded, and Nick turned his attention to you.

“How was your date last night?”

You blinked in surprise. Stu only knew about it because you’d told him tonight at the bar.

“Viago mentioned it,” he explained.

“Oh. Well, it was pretty nice, actually. We’re going out again the night after tomorrow.”

He gave you a thumbs up and left. If it wasn’t for his vampiric hearing, you’d have guessed he hadn’t been able to pick out your words over the background noise.

“I should probably head out, too.”

“No!” you protested, as Stu pulled out a few bills and laid them on the counter to cover his tab.

“I have to work in the morning.”

“So? I do too.” It wasn’t technically true, as you could get your hours at any point in the day, but Stu didn’t know that and you wanted him to stay.

“Then you should probably get home, too.”

You scowled, and Stu valiantly hid a laugh at your overdramatic response.

“Do you want to split a cab?”

“No,” you sighed, realizing you couldn’t convince him. “I want to finish my drink, and the busses are still running for a while.”

“Okay, I’ll talk to you later. Try not to let it bother you too much.” He gestured to the dance floor at large when he said ‘it,’ but you knew what he was referring to.

You turned back to your drink, trying not to glare at it again. After all, it hadn’t done anything wrong. When you looked back up, Stu was talking to Vladislav. He pointed to you. Oh crap. You looked back down, not wanting to make eye contact while Stu was very clearly ratting you out. You took back everything nice you’d ever said about him.

“Hi there,” Vladislav whispered into your ear. How did he get here so fast?

You winced into your drink.

“Hi.”

“A little bird told me someone needed a bit of attention.”

You rolled your eyes and loudly pulled more alcohol up through the straw. 

“That little bird was Stu, and I’m going to kick his ass.”

Vladislav lowly laughed into your ear, and you tried not to smile as its warmth bubbled through you. You turned to look up at him and, of course, his smile was contagious. That bastard. No one would let you wallow in your misery in peace.

“Don’t be too hard on Stu. After all, it worked right? I’m here now,” he whispered in your ear, gently brushing your hair aside. 

You knew he was just teasing you, but his voice was starting to make you melt, anyway.

You pulled yourself together and smacked him on the shoulder. “Take your ego down a notch and don’t be such a dick.”

For a second, you feared you’d overstepped a line. In this strange new limbo between friends and something more, you weren’t sure what was and wasn’t appropriate anymore. Thankfully, though, he threw his head back and laughed, and you actually let yourself smile. Sometimes he could be so stoic, so inexpressive. When he laughed, it was such a juxtaposition from his default state. It was warm and bubbly and you couldn’t help but feel it all the way down to your bones.

“Would you like to dance?” he asked. He grabbed your hand and yanked you over to the noisy, crowded dance floor before you could answer him.

You decided to have fun, jumping up and down, moving your body more or less in time with the thumping bass of the music. Vladislav’s dancing was… eclectic. But this was a club full of drunks, so his dancing didn’t really stand out any more than anyone else’s did.

Vladislav moved his hands to rest on your hips, and you instinctively moved forward, closing the gap between your bodies until you were flush against one another. You were more or less grinding on each other, now, and you felt that maybe you should be embarrassed. You weren’t.

He ducked his head down until you felt his lips brush against your neck. You relaxed into it, tilting your head to give him better access. A shiver ran down your body at the realization that his fangs were so close to your vulnerable, exposed neck. Vladislav gently nipped at the soft, thin flesh. It hadn’t hurt, but you yelped in surprise anyway. 

He moved a hand from your hip to place it reassuringly on the small of your back and brought his lips up your ear. “Relax. I’m not going to do anything.”

You weren’t entirely certain what he meant by ‘anything.’ If a regular human guy told you he wasn’t going to do anything, you’d take that to mean he would keep his hands to himself. You very much doubted you could make such an assumption regarding Vladislav. 

More likely, he’d meant he wasn’t going to do anything with respect to drinking your blood. Of course he wouldn’t. You knew that. You’d simply been startled when he’d playfully, flirtatiously nipped at you… because he was a vampire.

“Sorry!” you shouted over the music.

Vladislav chuckled lowly in your ear, and actively stated backing you off of the dance floor. It wasn’t much of a task, as you had gradually made your way towards the darkened back corner of the room over the course of your dancing. As Vladislav fluidly advanced, his hand still guiding you from the small of your back, you almost tripped over yourself as you were raced back. You were backed into the wall, and his hand moved from your back to the wall beside your head. 

“You need to learn to relax and have some fun.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but his lips crashed onto yours, effectively silencing you. You brought your hand up to his open shirt, fisting your hand in the material and holding his body to yours. His tongue delved into your mouth and you moaned around it. 

Soon, though, your brain moved from solely registering sensation, and you tasted him. The acrid taste of metal suddenly flooded your mouth. Your hand that had been pulling him towards you instead pushed him away while your other rose to wipe your mouth. 

He hadn’t even left the club! When had he found time to-

“Y/N?” Vladislav’s concerned voice pulled you from your thoughts. He looked almost hurt.

“Shit! Sorry, I’m so sorry.”

“Are you okay?” His eyes searched your own.

“I’m fine. I’m sorry. I- it tasted like blood…” you trailed off and looked down. You weren’t sure entirely why, but you felt like a supreme asshole.

“Ah…” Vladislav began. “Yes. I just ate.”

“It’s fine,” you quickly covered. “I’m sure I taste like cheap booze…” You nervously laughed, though you weren’t sure how convincing it was.

“Y/N-“

“Really, it’s fine.”

And it was fine. It had just startled you. Of course he tasted like blood. He ate blood. You knew that.

You’d come to terms with that.

It was fine.

“Maybe we should-“

You silenced him with a kiss of your own. He stood all too still for an excruciatingly long moment. Eventually, though, he leaned into it, reciprocating, pushing you back into the wall as your hands rose to his chest.

And it was fine.


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am SO sorry for the delay. School :/ I’ll try to be more consistent going forward. 
> 
> But here it is! Finally! Enjoy <3

You picked at your plate of chips while Vladislav stared intently at you. When insisted on taking you out to dinner despite the fact that he couldn’t eat, you insisted on somewhere simple and affordable, that he wouldn’t hate being. So, you were eating chips at The Big Kumara. If you thought being there would be less awkward than at a fancy restaurant, you were mistaken. It was just plain odd eating while you were being stared down.

But, if you were going to be dating Vladislav, you supposed you should try to get used to it.

“Thanks,” you said again, gesturing to the food in front of you.

He smiled. “They’re just chips.”

You ate another.

“So, the last time you and the guys brought me here, you mentioned you knew the owner,” you began.

“Yes.”

“And when we came in just now, the bouncer said we were ‘welcome.’”

Vladislav grinned, obviously anticipating what you were building to.

You continued, “This is a vampire bar, isn’t it?” 

The second the words left your lips, you felt like an idiot. A vampire bar? What the hell was a vampire bar? Why would vampires even need a bar? They didn’t eat or drink.

“It is, yes.”

Oh.

“Why?”

His eyebrows turned down. “Why what?”

“Why would vampires want a bar?”

He shrugged. “To lure in victims.”

You glanced around the bar. You and Vladislav were the only two people there. “And how often does that work out?”

“Every now and then.”

So, not often.

“How many vampires are there? Around here?”

“80 or so around Wellington, I think.”

You shuddered at the thought. How did it not seem like people were going missing all the time?

“Is that normal?”

“How do you mean?”

“I don’t know. It just seems like a lot.”

“Not really,” he said. “That’s pretty typical for a city this size.”

That alarmed you. You’d thought vampires were much more rare than that. A part of you was willing to believe that the majority of Wellington’s vampires lived with you. 80 out of the entire population of the city wasn’t a lot really, technically. But how many people must they be eating? How often must they be eating? And the fact that it wasn’t a lot more than usual, that everywhere was like this… And that was just the vampires. There were werewolves, witches, all manner of creatures out there. It was amazing anyone survived long enough to die of old age.

“Y/N?” Vladislav prompted, pulling you from your thoughts. “You’re thinking pretty loudly.”

You returned his smile. “Sorry.”

“I know it seems like a lot, but you weren’t even aware of vampires before moving in with us. We tend to keep a low profile, as a species.”

“I suppose so,” you conceded with a small laugh. He was right, of course. People didn’t just disappear off the streets, not at a higher rate than normal, anyway. Those 80 vampires hadn’t affected your life at all, nor had they affected the lives of most people, it seemed. 

Apparently, this was just how the world was.

You went back to eating your fries.

~

Dawn was out of town visiting a relative, so you finally had a chance to do the stupid thing she wouldn’t want you to. It was so stupid, in fact, that you hadn’t even broached the topic with her, knowing how she’d react.

And she’d be right. You shouldn’t do it. 

You finished applying your makeup, ready to go out on the town.

Like an idiot.

The disappearances had been slowing, but they certainly hadn’t stopped. Your brain morbidly supplied the suggestion that the disappearances were slowing because there weren’t many women left who matched the description of those missing. 

You feared you were one of the last.

All the more reason for you not to go out.

You didn’t know why you were. It’s not like you had a death wish. At least, you thought you didn’t.

Maybe you did.

You grabbed your purse and headed out.

~

You and Vladislav returned home, closing the front door behind you. You turned to look up at him. This part was weird. Generally on a first and second date, and whatever your make out session at Boogie Wonderland could be classified, the members went home separately. It was always abundantly clear what would happen next. Unless someone was invited in, you went to bed alone. And if someone was invited in, that sent a pretty clear message, as well.

The established dating protocols really fell apart when you were flatting with your date.

“So…” you began, desperately hoping he would take over, as you had no idea how to finish.

He obliged. “Let’s go upstairs.”

You faltered. Again, with the lack of clarity. Each of your individual bedrooms were upstairs. He might mean ‘Let’s each go up to our own bedrooms alone.’ 

But he might not.

He kissed you goodnight after your first date. He kissed you goodnight after you’d walked home from Boogie Wonderland. He wasn’t kissing you goodnight now. Instead, he was giving you an almost predatory smile.

“Your room or mine?” he asked. 

Oh. That was clearer.

Is this what you wanted, though? Obviously you were attracted to him. (Very obviously.) But this was only your second date. Well, it could count as a third date if you were being generous. And people definitely hooked up on third dates. That was a whole thing.

You were wearing matching underwear. You’d shaved. Your bedroom was even clean. 

Vladislav brought his hand up to rest on your hip, and you suddenly couldn’t think of a reason not to go for it.

“My room,” you said, quickly weighing the benefits of your bed against the drawbacks of his coffin.

And then he was taking your hand, leading you upstairs to your bedroom, guiding you like you were a guest in your own home. He tugged you along, and you had to half jog to keep up with him as he rapidly climbed the stairs.

You swung the bedroom door shut behind you, and it slammed with a loud thud you had no doubt could be heard throughout the house. You barely had time to wonder who of you flatmates were currently home before Vladislav had you pushed up against the door, his lips on yours. 

You leaned into the kiss, savoring the feeling of his hands roaming over your clothes before you gently pushed him away.

“Wait a sec?” you said, gesturing over the bathroom door.

He nodded and stepped back, letting you walk into the bathroom, shedding your bag and jacket and kicking off your shoes as you went. You absently pulled the door closed as you entered, but it didn’t latch, leaving a small crack in the doorway. That was fine; you’d just wanted to freshen up.

You wiped any smudged makeup from under your eyes as you swished some mouthwash around. Not that it really mattered. He’d already kissed you with chips on your breath. You spit into the sink and faced your reflection in the mirror, brushing your fingers through your hair in an attempt to re-tame it. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw him push open the door and step into the bathroom. You managed to suppress an eye roll. He really wasn’t big on boundaries, was he?

Eyes still locked on your own reflection, you said, “It’s been about 60 seconds. Not very patient, are we?”

“You make me very impatient.”

You gasped and jumped in surprise. His voice had come from directly behind you. Being a vampire, though, he wasn’t reflected in the mirror, so you’d had no idea how close he was until he spoke.

“Relax,” he said, bringing his hands up to your hips. “Don’t turn around,” he added as you began to pivot. “Keep looking in the mirror.”

Vladislav bent his head down to kiss the side of your neck. You could just make out his dark form in your peripheral vision, and it took all your willpower to keep your eyes focused on the mirror. An excited chill ran through your body as you gazed into the mirror. You couldn’t see Vladislav, but you could see the evidence of him. The fabric of your shirt was rumpled where his hands rested. Your hair was mussed where he had brushed it out of his way. Your face was flushed already.

Vladislav’s hands lifted from your hips, and you bit the inside of your lower lip in anticipation, bracing your hands against the counter. You couldn’t see his hands and didn’t know what to expect from him until you felt his hands come to rest on your chest.

Your breath hitched when you felt his breath on your ear. “Is this okay?” 

You nodded, unable to speak, and his hands began moving, groping. His hands squeezed your chest firmly, strongly, just shy of painful. You couldn’t hide the small moan that escaped your lips. His hands meandered down your body, exploring its curves until they once again reached your hips. His left hand dipped under your shirt, lightly trailing back up your torso, leaving a trail of goosebumps on your bare skin, and settling back on your chest, kneading the flesh there. His right hand stayed lower, deftly unfastening your pants. 

“Keep your eyes on the mirror,” he said. His hand came up to your face and gently guided it toward the mirror.

Your eyes were wide, pupils blown. Your chest heaved with your deep breathing. You could see the outline of his moving hand under your top, but his other movements remained a mystery. That is, until you felt his hand slide into your pants, reaching downwards until he reached the spot he was looking for. He slid a digit between your folds and you gently gasped at the intimate movement.

“Wet already?” he whispered into your ear. You could hear the teasing smile in his voice.

You wanted to say something clever. Witty. Something that could knock him down a peg. Raise you up a peg. Anything to level the playing field. Instead, you moaned.

Damn him.

“That’s what I thought.” He sounded even smugger than before.

You wondered if there was some sort of vampire-related reason you were so into this so fast. Barely anything had happened yet and you were practically a puddle. You considered asking if this was just a vampire thing. You didn’t, though, for fear of insulting him if the answer was yes, or being humiliated if the answer was no.

A wide finger slipped inside you, altogether halting your train of thought, and you bit your lip to keep from making a pathetic sound. Although you couldn’t see Vladislav in the mirror, he could see you, and brought his other hand from under your shirt to gently pull your lower lip from your teeth.

“Don’t hurt yourself,” he gently chided as he began working his finger in and out of you.

You ground your hips against his hand, hyperaware of the cool metal of the ring of his pinky finger pressed against the junction of your thigh. He added a second finger to his ministrations, and you startled momentarily, almost looking down instead of ahead into the mirror. But if your gaze faltered, neither of you noticed.

Vladislav’s chest was pressed against your back, effectively pinning you against the sink. His hair fell forward, brushing against the nape of your neck, and the pendants of the two long necklaces he wore dug almost painfully into your shoulder blade. You could feel his hard cock pressed firmly against your ass as you ground your hips. The glimpses of him you caught out of the corner of your eye- his hair, his nose, his shirtsleeve- were beginning to drive you mad, when he pulled away all at once. 

His fingers were gone and so was his presence at your back.

Careful to keep your eyes on the mirror, you asked in a voice breathier than you would have liked, “Vladislav?”

He didn’t answer. At least, not vocally. Instead, you felt his hand at your hips, thumbs dipping into the waistband of your pants. In one swift move, he pulled your pants down to your ankles, and a shiver ran up your now bare legs as the room’s cool air hit them. His hands slowly trailed up the outside of your legs, leaving goosebumps in their wake, until he reached your underwear.

“Do you want me to take these off?” he asked.

That stopped you short. Why would he ask that? Of course you wanted him to take them off. How else were you supposed to proceed? Then you realized that, obviously, that was his way of asking if you still wanted to proceed. He was checking in to make sure you wanted this.

You nodded rapidly, repeatedly, before breathlessly managing a “yes.”

Your underwear was removed and you briefly felt foolish and mildly unattractive, standing in front of the mirror in nothing but your top. Vladislav apparently did not share those doubts about your appeal, however, as you suddenly felt him pressed between your thighs. You hadn’t even noticed him unfasten his pants.

His right hand came up to your sternum, pulling you against him. His left, presumably, was being used to position himself, because you felt the head of his cock slowly press into you. 

“Oh fuck,” you exhaled as he slid himself fully into you. His breath was ragged and irregular in your ear, morphing into a deep but quiet moan when he was fully sheathed inside you. That was a sound you could certainly get used to.

You both remained still for a moment, adjusting to the sensation. You felt pleasantly full, stretched, though not to the point of pain. The heat low in your belly demanded movement, friction, but you were pinned between his body and the sink, unable to do much more than squirm.

Before you could say anything, though, Vladislav oh so slowly, teasingly, pulled out, leaving just the head inside of you, before pushing ing back in, only slightly faster. You let out a soft sound, somewhere between a moan and a sigh, from high in your throat, as he repeated the motion. As he began to rhythmically thrust in and out of you, you rocked your hips back to meet his, both fucking one another against the bathroom sink.

His hands were everywhere, it seemed, a frenzy of motion, on your stomach, your hips, your arms, taking in everything they could, before he returned to your chest. He squeezed, pinching and twisting your nipples through your shirt, pulling whining moans from your throat. With a particularly rough thrust, Vladislav threw your body forwards, and you braced your hands against the mirror to stop yourself from colliding into it. You moaned loudly as he repeated the harsh movement. Whether spurred by your vocalizations or the by the sensations involved, you didn’t know, but he continued with this aggressive pace, and you increased your own thrusting in kind.

Your head was spinning from the delicious feeling of him stretching you open, hitting just too hard, just too deep. The glass of the mirror felt almost like ice under your heated hands. The porcelain of the sink would likely leave bruises on your thighs from where you were being pushed into it on each of his thrusts. You squeezed your eyes shut when you felt his lips brush against your neck.

“Vladislav!” you’d meant it to be a whisper, but it had come out just shy of a shout.

Your own moans, his panting breath punctuated by masculine grunts, the wet sound of your flesh slapping harshly together, the metallic link of his necklaces against one another, the rustle of your shirts against one another… it was so much, almost too much, dizzying.

“Fuck, fuck…” he breathed.

You were close, so close. You could tell he was getting there too. He was picking up speed, losing rhythm.

“Vlad- I-“ you struggled to find words. Your brain felt like mush.

Thankfully, though, he either understood or predicted your request, because he brought a hand down to where you most needed it, rubbing your clit in firm but gentle circles. You feel yourself clench around him hard as you orgasmed, feeling the tingling in your abdomen, your back, spreading upwards and throughout your body until you felt like nothing so much as a pulsation of warmth, of static, of pleasure. He could tell, you realized, as he chuckled deeply in your ear, and you gasped as he followed, coming hard, spilling himself inside you with a loud moan.

As his movements slowed, you finally let yourself fall forward onto the mirror, your forehead leaning on the surface. Your breath left small puffs on condensation on the glass as you tried to regulate your breathing. Vladislav relaxed on top of you, not weighing you down, but leaning against you. You couldn’t quite make out his form where his head rested on your shoulder, but you felt his breath through your shirt.

You stood there in a silence that seemed deafening compared to the noise that had come before, savoring the feeling of his chest rising and falling against your back, his softening member still resting inside of you.

Eventually, though, he pulled slowly out of you, and you whimpered at the loss, feeling suddenly empty. He took a step back, and you pushed yourself off of the mirror, noting the smudges now decorating the smooth surface.

You turned to face him, resting your bare ass against the sink as he tucks himself into his pants. You felt spent, physically and emotionally, and very much in need of a good night’s sleep, but you couldn’t fight the smile that tugged at your lips when you caught sight of the wicked grin he’s throwing at you.

“What?” you asked as you bend forward, pulling up your pants. You felt suddenly shy for someone who was just railed to a very intense orgasm.

He shrugged, still smiling. “Nothing, really. You just seemed like you enjoyed yourself quite a bit.”

You considered pointing out that egotistical wasn’t a good look on him, that he also seemed to be having a pretty good time, or that insinuating that he was a good lay actually detracted from how good a lay he was. 

Instead, you let him have this one, saying, “Yes, I did.”

“Me too.”

He surged forward, pulling you into a rough kiss, hardly giving you any time to reciprocate before pulling away just as quickly.

“Come to bed with me now?” he asked, the suggestion loaded with innuendo.

You raised an eyebrow, your earlier fatigue fading at his tone, and headed towards your bed, trusting that he’d follow.


End file.
